Heartsong
by Winterbyrd
Summary: Every bird has a song, or so they say, but finding your voice in Rio? That's easier said than done for young Nico, a canary who claims he can't even sing! To make it big and break his shell, this bird's going to need all the help his new friends have to offer. Hissing cats? Gluttonous rats? Nothing they can't handle, right? Nico-centric. Pre-movie plot. COMPLETE.
1. Gotta Get Away

**Author's Note: **_It's been years since I last wrote fanfiction, but I couldn't resist contributing to the Rio category. Nico is by far my favorite character so, naturally, the plot to come will center around him, but I also have a soft-spot for Pedro and Rafael so you can expect them to make plenty of appearances. There will be no OC's joining the cast; background characters may reoccur, but only as necessary. Finally, be warned that you may come across the odd Spanish expression; I don't mean to knock authenticity, but certain phrases don't work as well in Portuguese. All that aside, let's get this story started!_

"Hey, Carmen, I think your bird's broken," laughed a pudgy young boy. He smirked to himself as he reclined against the porch railing of a large white house in an upscale neighborhood.

"Oh, shut up, Gabriel," the pig-tailed girl standing next to him huffed. Crossing her arms, she leaned in to peer through the wires at the quivering ball of feathers pressed up against the farthest corner of the cage. "What's wrong, you stupid bird? Why won't you sing?"

The boy snorted and began to walk away. "Some present Papi got you this year."

Carmen shot him a look, jogging to catch up with him so she could land a soft punch on his arm. Glancing over her shoulder, she muttered, "Whatever, I don't care. It's just a dumb bird."

Thundering footsteps carried the last threads of conversation into the house. The small bird cage rattled in protest as the screen door slammed shut behind the departing children. Behind the wires, the canary dared to crack an eye open, taking a few rapid breaths and then hesitantly fluttering to a perch from where he could survey the now seemingly deserted front yard.

Dark clouds threatened to swallow what was left of the morning's blue skies. Already, the air smelled thick with coming rain, and the small bird couldn't help but shiver against the cool breeze as it whistled through the cage. He rubbed his wings for warmth, though it did little to help.

"_Mrow_."

There was a slender orange cat coming up the porch steps, tail swishing from side to side with pleasure; she quickly closed the gap between herself and the trapped canary. Just inches away from the cage's stand, she paused and began to toy with a stray yellow feather, pointedly making a show of every mock kill until the wind stole her prize.

After a lengthy stretching session, the cat straightened up and cleared the floor in a single bound, landing awkwardly atop the bird cage. She craned her neck to observe the nervous little bird below her, green eyes glimmering with delight.

"H-hello," the canary choked out in spite of himself, gripping his perch.

"Ola," the cat replied smoothly, breaking into an immaculate smile.

Gulping, the bird squinted at the cat's dangling ID tags. "So, your name's… A-Amora? I'm, uh… Nico."

Amora said nothing, but continued to smile. She had begun to slide to the edge of the cage and her paw dangled at the door, working to unhinge it. The porch door swung open just as the latch came loose.

"Get away from him, you dumb cat!"

Startled by Carmen's unexpected intrusion, a hissing Amora managed to knock the bird cage off balance—it crashed into the floor, sending Nico tumbling into the air with a mess of wire, birdseed, and spilled water. The scene was dizzying, though desperation to escape easily snapped the canary out of his trance. Amora and Carmen were racing to be the first to snatch him up, but for Nico's part, the success of neither captor was preferable; he was airborne without a second thought.

Beating his wings hard, the small bird slipped through Carmen's fingers and narrowly avoided Amora's claws. He flew harder and faster than ever before, fueled by adrenaline and never looking over his shoulder. Where he was headed was anyone's guess—escape was the only thing on his mind just then. He intended to fly until his wings could no longer hold him up, a task easier said than done as the rain gradually evolved from a drizzle into an unforgiving torrent.

"Bit further," Nico mumbled to himself, attempting to keep his eyes focused on the approaching treeline. Heavy raindrops had been beating down mercilessly on his small frame, soaking his skin right through his feathers and worsening his exhaustion.

He was well above the jungle when the physical stress of his flight caught up with him and his muscles gave way. He dropped like a stone (or more like a pebble). The thick upper canopy of trees caught him first, gently rolling him down from leaf to leaf into the lower canopy until, at last, his fall was broken by a black feathery mass and a squawk of surprise.

The unsuspecting toucan had been scouting the jungle floor for signs of any chicks that had strayed from his nest in a nearby hollow when the canary had struck him from above. Naturally, he assumed that one of his children was attempting to prank him, but the good natured laugh he had thought to respond with died in his throat as a small yellow bird—smaller even than his chicks, he noted—rolled off his back and lay still in the leaves.

"You alright, amigo?" the older bird inquired, awkwardly extending a large black wing to tap the canary's side. There was no response, and so he stepped closer, staring down his beak at the rain-soaked bundle of feathers. The pint-sized stranger was visibly breathing, but unlikely to regain consciousness.

Sighing, the toucan glanced up and around as if expecting some frantic mother to appear and make sense of the situation by claiming the canary as her lost chick. No such luck.

"Eva's not gonna like this."

**RIO**

Nico was reluctant to wake from his dream—he had spent the night believing that he was snuggled comfortably against the siblings that he could barely remember. Even as he began to stir himself awake, the warmth of his family's feathers and the prickling feel of his nest seemed almost real. For a minute, he could allow himself to think that everything had been a dream, that he had not ventured out of his hollow against his mother's warnings, been snapped up by humans and—well, everything that had happened since then until he had found himself in the captivity of a little girl.

Groggily, the canary opened his eyes. The blackness of sleep gave way to the blackness of… feathers?

He stiffened, realizing with great discomfort that he was surrounded by toucan chicks. His beak gaped wide as he tried to recall the day before, and finally he managed to utter simply, "W-what—"

The sunlight streaming through the entrance of the hollow was suddenly blocked by the arrival of the chicks' father, his mouth stuffed with a large mango. Noticing the canary staring from the nest, wide-eyed and beginning to quiver, the toucan dropped his fruit to the side and offered a reassuring smile.

"So you're awake," he said pleasantly, stepping fully into the hollow and rolling the mango forward some. "Hungry at all? There's more where this came from."

Nico could only continue to stare, his expression betraying a mixture of intimidation and curiosity.

"That's right, I should probably introduce myself. I'm Rafael," the toucan chuckled, wiping his wing across his beak in embarrassment. "And who might you be, my young friend?"

"Uh, N-Nico. How did I…"

"Get here? I should be asking you," Rafael said, spreading his wings out in a shrug. His smile suddenly faded into a look of concern, and he regarded the canary with a serious expression. "You didn't fall from a nest, did you? Oh, your mother must be worried sick…"

"I'm _not_ a… a chick," Nico said with some indignation, looking flustered.

"Whatever you say, amigo, but at least give me this—you're not from around here, are you?"

"I don't know," the canary responded flatly, turning away from the older bird's confused expression. After an awkward pause, he resigned himself to adding, "I don't want to talk about it."

Rafael watched with bemusement as Nico clambered over the sleeping toucan chicks, lurching forward and almost losing his balance at points when his feet caught on a stray wing or beak. The small bird's brow was set with determination as he finally hopped out of the nest and moved past his host to catch a glimpse of the unfamiliar jungle beyond the hollow.

"Where will you go?" the toucan asked gently, seeing the canary's beak set in a grim expression.

"Home," Nico would have _liked_ to say. Instead, he found himself at a loss for words. Where would he go? He had no way of finding his family—they were worlds away far as he knew, and he was probably dead to them, anyway. He simply _wouldn't _go back to that cage and wait to become cat food, so—

The canary's train of thought was abruptly cut off by the arrival of another toucan; he fluttered backwards to avoid becoming victim to her feet as she strutted inside, her beak tilted high and stuffed with purple grapes.

"Another mouth to feed," Eva said silkily, clicking her tongue as she trained her eye on Nico's small frame. "But you certainly are thin, aren't you?"

"Eva, please," Rafael said with a nervous smile, brushing up against his wife and tickling the underside of her beak affectionately. He turned to look at Nico, who was watching them uncertainly. "Allow me to introduce the light of my life, my beautiful wife… Eva."

"Um, h-hello…" Nico offered lamely, scratching at the ground.

Eva flashed a guarded smile, muttering an apology as she ushered Rafael towards the back of the hollow and promptly crossed her wings. "Don't fool yourself," she whispered harshly. "Your little amigo _cannot_ stay here. Think of the eggs, Rafael. I don't like it, I don't like strangers around them."

"What can I do? He has nowhere to go," Rafael replied earnestly, his eyes pleading. "Forget the eggs, Eva, he's completely harmless."

"Ay caramba, always so trusting," Eva said with a deep frown, turning towards the nest where her chicks still slept peacefully. "Feed him if you must, but I want him gone. Not another word about it!"

Rafael slouched in defeat, his wingtips brushing against the floor as he wandered back towards the canary—except there was no sign of the small bird in the hollow, not so much as a stray feather. Puzzled, the toucan hopped outside to survey the jungle. The treetops were alive with birds of every size and color; it would prove difficult to pick out a tiny canary from the picture.

"Hey, good morning there, Rafy," said a large red macaw from an adjacent tree branch.

"Ola, Benito," the toucan said with a smile, dipping his beak in greeting. "Say, I'm looking for a certain bird. Would you have seen him? Small, yellow feathers, not from around here…"

The macaw scratched his head with one foot for a few moments and then nodded vigorously. "Oh sure, he went, uh, _that way_ about a minute ago…" he declared, gesturing lazily towards the city with one wing. "Looked like he was in a hurry, hey?"

"Thanks, amigo! I owe you one," Rafael said gratefully, shooting himself up into the air and catching a breeze towards the cityscape beyond the jungle.

**RIO**

Nico weaved his way through the streets, taking in the sights and sounds of Rio for the first time since he had arrived. Humans and birds alike paid him little mind as he alighted on a crate of exotic fruits near the market to rest and observe his surroundings. The corners of his beak began to curl up into a smile as he basked in the summer sun, briefly allowing himself to forget his troubles.

"What have we got here, boys?"

Several parakeets had closed in behind the distracted canary, laughing and whispering as the smaller bird whirled around in surprise and nearly stepped off the edge of the crate.

"Haven't seen you around here before," a green parakeet said, leering as he stepped forward. "You're one of them… canaries, ain't you?"

Nico nodded slowly.

"Why don't you sing us something, canary boy?" a blue parakeet called from the center of the flock, his head bobbing above the rest. Laughter and murmurs of agreement broke out in response.

"I-I don't know how to… s-sing," Nico said lowly, blushing beneath his feathers.

The parakeets erupted into hysterics, unable to compose themselves even as the small bird spread his wings to leave. He launched himself into the air, eager to flee the scene of his humiliation, only to rocket straight into a wall of black feathers.

Rafael chuckled apologetically. "Sorry about that, amigo. We seem to be making a habit of this."

"You _know_ this kid, Rafy?" a green parakeet asked loudly; he had broken away from his flock who were now wheeling and winding high over the fruit market.

"Say, didn't see you there, Fonsie," the toucan replied politely, turning his head towards the parakeet and pointedly ignoring the look of disbelief as he glided closer to Nico and gave him a friendly nudge. "This here's my newest amigo. Have you all met?"

"Something like that," Nico mumbled, attempting to fall back behind Rafael.

Fonsie smirked as he reclined into a warm breeze. "Sure, we've met."

Above their heads, a blue parakeet swooped past, doubling back to hover alongside Fonsie. "Karaoke tonight at the club, so don't forget, Rafy," he said enthusiastically. "You should bring the kid."

With that, Fonsie and the blue parakeet zipped upwards to rejoin their flock, leaving Nico to sulk as Rafael began chattering happily about karaoke nights at the club and Rio's finest feathered singers. It was a while before he caught on to the canary's lack of enthusiasm at the subject.

"What's eating you, Nico?" the toucan questioned, regarding him with a sober expression.

"Don't like karaoke," the canary said dismissively, turning wing to soar deeper into the city.

Rafael overtook the smaller bird in a few short bursts. He settled into the wind just above, eyeing Nico with more concern than he could account for; fatherly instincts were difficult to shake.

"Stop doing that," Nico grumbled, straining his wings to get ahead.

"Ay, stubborn," Rafael muttered to himself, shaking his head and pumping his wings to stay with the canary, who was beginning to fly somewhat recklessly. "Slow down, would you? You're going to—"

There was a muted "bang" as Nico's small frame crashed sidelong into a shop window.

Wincing, the toucan swooped low and touched down on the sidewalk. He hopped over to where the canary was now lying on his back, apparently conscious but making no move to peel himself from the floor—even as a bicycle zipped past just inches from his head.

"I can't sing," Nico admitted dejectedly as Rafael's form loomed over him.

"What?"

"You heard me."

Rafael chuckled. "_Every_ bird has a song, amigo!"

Nico exhaled loudly, working to find his feet while noticeably favoring his right wing. He stretched it out briefly, clenched his beak in pain, and then allowed it to hang uselessly at his side. With a scowl at the toucan next to him, who was staring at the sprained wing with disapproval, he said quietly, "Look, Rafy, Rafael—whatever your name is—I don't need you to keep following me."

Rafael opened his mouth to reply, but Nico waved his wing to interrupt him.

"I've got this. Just… thanks for your help, but I'm fine now."

"But your wing—"

"_Please.._."

"Alright, alright! You win," the toucan said, his expression flooding with something like disappointment. He spread his wings and then paused, offering one last half-smile. "You know where to find me."

The canary watched as he disappeared into the city, pushing aside the nagging feeling of reluctance to see him go before turning to face the streets. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, almost immediately having to jump back to avoid a child running past; with that minor setback behind him, he clenched his wing with determination and lost himself to the city.

**RIO**

Evening had fallen and Nico was growing increasingly weary from hunger, having neglected to eat anything since yesterday; he had spent hours hopping around the city, his right wing dragging along beside him, narrowly avoiding the numerous predators that lurked below the height of a human kneecap—including human feet themselves.

He slowly came around another corner only to find himself standing before a large pile of fallen trashcans in a dimly lit alleyway. Mice were weaving in and out of tears in the plastic bags, stuffing their faces with precious morsels and scurrying off into the shadows when their jaws could hold no more.

"What a nice surprise. I don't remember ordering delivery," a voice sneered from nearby.

There was a large gray furred rat slinking into Nico's peripheral vision. He boasted numerous battle scars, gleaming yellow teeth, and inky black eyes, but even without all that, the sheer bulk of the rodent was enough to make a flightless bird cry. The rat seemed to know this just as well; he oozed confidence as he tightened his circle around the terror-stricken canary.

"Name's Santos," the rat said with a strange grin, "and I'll be your chef tonight."

Nico gulped long and hard, his heart beating rapidly against his chest. It occurred to him that now might be the opportune moment to plead his case, appeal to the rat's better nature, or at least insist that he was bony and tasteless, but the words wouldn't come. He was frozen with panic.

"What, no screams? No snappy comebacks? Oh well…"

Santos swiftly lumbered forward with a wicked gleam in his eye; his naked tail lashed out, striking the canary's feet and causing him to lose balance. Before he could catch himself, the rat had closed in and pinned the small bird to the concrete, watching with a certain degree of amusement as his prey failed to even struggle against him—he only choked and sputtered in response to the rat's hot and foul smelling breath coming over his face in waves.

It was the first bite that seemed to wake Nico from his panic-induced trance.

Taken aback by the canary's sudden thrashing, Santos nearly neglected to maintain a hold over his prey. He snarled as he dug his claws deeper into flesh and feathers, bringing his face close again with growing eagerness to sink his teeth into the small bird's throat and—

"Santos! Dios mio, just _what_ are you doing?"

Fury struck the rat's features before he regained his composure, casually stepping away from Nico as though he had not been attempting to make dinner out of him moments ago. He cleared his throat and turned to face the large blue macaw who sat perched nearby; a knot of various other birds behind him were silhouetted by the neon lights of a samba club spilling out from an open tarp.

"What's shaking, Montez?" Santos said casually, his voice dripping with derision as he gestured to the now quivering yellow bird beside him and added, "Besides this kid, of course."

"It would have been wise to stay out of Rio."

"Something came up," the rat shrugged, his tail flicking irritably.

Several of the birds gathered behind Montez had worked themselves into a ruckus. "Bird murderer," a tanager called over the crowd, while various smaller voices chirped out darker profanities.

"Join me for dinner sometime, won't you?" Santos hollered up at the offending birds, glaring daggers.

"Enough," the macaw warned through a gritted beak. He fixed the rat with a reproachful eye. "Give me a reason, Santos. One more strike and you're—"

"_Gone_," the rat snickered as he darted nimbly up and over the pile of trashcans, into the darkness and out of the birds' sight.

**Author's Note:** _If you were wondering, Pedro makes his entrance near the beginning of the next chapter. But yeah, I hope everything is fairly straight forward 'cause truth be told, I'm winging this (pun intended). Oh, if Nico seems not quite himself, do keep in mind that he's young and lacking confidence. Thanks for reading!_


	2. Tasting Freedom

**Author's Note:** _Oh man, I should be sleeping, but here I am, writing for Heartsong at 3 AM. Thank you for the reviews and everything else, guys! The positive response was very much appreciated. Next chapter will be coming ASAP, but unfortunately, I'm both moving and taking final exams for summer classes this week, so I won't have any free time to write for a little while. Meanwhile, though, hope you enjoy what I've got here! No time to proofread, so let me know if I overlooked something. :)_

Nico awoke with a start, discovering that he was sitting in a foreign nest for the second time in just as many days. Worse than that, he was caged all over again. What had happened? That human girl… had she managed to capture him? Wait, that wasn't the last thing he remembered… there was a huge ugly rat, and he had almost— The canary swallowed hard. He had almost become dinner.

"You're looking better today, pretty bird."

Startled by the voice, Nico practically threw himself into a corner, holding his good wing up defensively.

Human eyes were examining him through the cage wires. The woman was dressed in a lab coat, jotting notes down on a clipboard, and carrying a young cockatoo on her shoulder who she occasionally reached up to scratch with the end of her pen.

When she at last walked out of the room, Nico slumped to the ground and breathed out heavily. He gingerly lifted his right wing for inspection to find that it was bandaged around the top; there was a pink stain near his shoulder where Santos had bitten into him the night before.

"You are one lucky bird, my young friend."

Rafael was stepping down from the sill of an open window nearby.

"W-what are you doing here?" Nico exclaimed, suddenly looking embarrassed. He turned away from the older bird to obscure the rat's claw marks that he might have avoided had he never stubbornly insisted that he strike out alone.

"Montez told me what happened," the toucan explained after a long silence. "Word travels fast in Rio."

There was a blur of gray and red feathers as a cardinal suddenly swept in through the window and collapsed on the nearest counter, his chest heaving rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath.

"Ay hombre! What happened? You were right behind me," Rafael said with exasperation, crossing his wings at the heavyset bird who was attempting to straighten himself out.

"Sorry, man, but there was this bird, real hotwing, and so—"

"No, no, nevermind," the toucan quickly interrupted, rolling his eyes before turning to Nico with a sunny expression. "There's someone I'd like you to meet! This here is my very good amigo, Pedro."

"O-ola," Nico tried quietly, approaching the edge of the cage. He curled his good wing hesitantly around one of the wires. "My name's—"

"Nico! Heard all about you, man," Pedro said enthusiastically, gliding over and yanking the canary's wing through the bars to shake it. He continued breathlessly, "Yeah, you ran across Santos, huh? Pretty nasty. I was workin' the club last night and the ladies were all freakin' when we heard."

The canary stood wide-eyed, unsure what to say in response to the cardinal's spirited introduction. He found himself looking to Rafael for help, and the toucan quickly stepped forward to intervene.

"Give him some air, Pedro. Come on now," Rafael chuckled, nudging the cardinal aside with one wing.

Pedro's beak curved into a sheepish grin. "So when can we bust you out of there, anyway?"

"I'm good with now," Nico admitted weakly.

"Not so fast, amigo," the toucan cut in, giving the canary a sympathetic smile. He tapped some medical notes on the side of the cage with one foot. "You've got to rest that wing. Doctor's orders."

Hopping over to inspect the notes, Pedro squinted at the human writing for a while; when he turned away, he gave the older bird a suspicious look. "Rafy, man, how can you even read this stuff? It's not even, like… Pekingese."

"Portuguese," Rafael corrected patiently, though not without raising a brow.

Nico had carefully climbed the wires up towards the cage door and was attempting to unhinge it while the toucan was distracted by his friend's antics. He had just about succeeded, needing only to stretch his foot a little farther, when he lost his grip and tumbled backwards into the nest he had awoken in. Upon sitting up again, he could almost feel the reprimanding stare burning into him.

"—came in last night," the woman from earlier was saying into the phone as she suddenly entered the room, causing the three birds to look over curiously. "That's right, sir. He's resting up, but tomorrow would be great. I'm sure your daughter will be very happy. Cuidado!"

The canary could scarcely hide his distress as the woman cheerfully hung up the phone and moved over to his cage. "Oh, hello there, I see you have some visitors," she said, looking over at Pedro and Rafael with a bright smile. "Well, you'll be happy to know that your family is coming to get you in the morning, little guy. Let me just take a peek at that wing and—"

"Marta? Call for you on line two," called a voice from another room.

Silence remained between the birds as the woman grabbed the phone and rushed out of the room, pausing in her course only long enough to unhook her lab coat after becoming caught on a protruding nail. When the doors swung shut, Nico leapt up and desperately resumed his escape attempts.

"Whoa, back up, bird. You're a _pet_?" Pedro asked incredulously.

"More like a prisoner," Nico said grimly, straining his leg to reach the hinge. "Little help here?"

With the cardinal's help, the cage door was sprung open in seconds flat. The canary offered a grateful half-smile as he teetered on the wires at the opening, now pondering his options for reaching the countertop below without losing his balance on the landing. He slowly began to extend his right wing, experimenting with his pain threshold and holding back a wince.

"_I understand that, Andres, but please give me a moment to check on a few patients_."

Rafael frowned, noting the gradually approaching sound of Marta's footsteps. He threw a look at the two smaller birds, having exhausted his need to debate the wisdom of the canary's determination to escape, and whispered urgently, "Rapido, rapido, you two!"

"Doin' our best, man," Pedro said nervously, swooping close enough to offer Nico a shoulder for balance as the reckless bird leapt from his cage, nearly toppling over as he hit the counter.

"Ay, no time," the toucan sighed as the door began to creak open. Taking flight from the window sill, he landed neatly alongside the canary and extended his wing as though it were a ramp, gesturing that he would carry the younger bird. "It's alright, come on…"

Nico faltered only as long as it took to consider his options: fleeting humiliation or lifetime captivity.

"Que diablos!" exclaimed Marta in utter bewilderment as she entered the room with just enough time to spot the three birds slipping out the window and making a break for the open skies.

**RIO**

Pedro whooped as he plummeted down towards the city and then rose upwards again, settling into flight on a current just above his two friends. He was grinning from one side of his beak to the other, his eyes radiant with the success of having sprung another bird from unhappy captivity.

Looking up at the cardinal, Nico smiled to himself slightly. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the wind to ruffle his feathers, but as the birds came near a cluster of restaurants, the scent of food drifting towards them caused the canary's stomach to growl with longing. It was too much to hope that Rafael hadn't noticed, for the toucan was already glancing back at his passenger.

"Let's eat, amigos! I'm starving," Rafael said with a wink back at Nico.

"Alright, food! I'm so down with that," Pedro responded happily, pumping his wing in the air.

They touched down on the rooftop of a bustling café where a number of birds were already working the crowd down below. After letting Nico slip off his back and onto his own two feet, Rafael held up his wing for him to wait there while he and Pedro dove towards the floor to search for their lunch.

"Just you wait, Nico, this stuff is gonna change your _life_!" the cardinal's voice echoed in his wake.

The weather was pleasantly warm with few clouds to blemish the blue sky, and as he awaited the return of his friends, the canary absorbed the sights, sounds, and smells of lively Rio with a contented smile. There was no shortage of activity for blocks around—children laughed and played while their parents stopped to gossip, couples held hands under the café tables, and vendors loudly announced their wares. Far above all this, birds of all feathers raced about or soared peacefully on the summer breezes, their conversations melding into an ambient harmony of chirps, squawks, and screeches.

"Here we are, the fruits of Rio de Janeiro," Rafael said proudly as he returned, releasing a napkin stuffed with slices of mango, banana, pineapple, papaya, and strawberries.

Pedro was flapping his wings hard to stay airborne as he, too, arrived back at the rooftop—his beak and feet were stuffed with as many french fries as a cardinal could hope to carry. "Nah, man, _this_ is the... good stuff," he said panting heavily, once he had collapsed over top of the pile of fries.

"Wow," Nico uttered quietly, mesmerized by the sight of the food, and only half-listening to what anyone had to say about it. He hopped from fruit to fruit with interest and brushed his good wing tenderly against a fry, feeling the salt tickle his skin.

"Well, don't just look at it, hey? Eat up!" Rafael laughed, exchanging an amused glance with Pedro.

The canary took a few experimental bites before gratefully settling into the feast. Within minutes, his feathers were drenched in fruit juice; he sat contentedly by the empty napkin, licking salt from his beak. With a happy sigh, he turned to look at his friends and said, "Birdseed _never_ tasted so good."

"Ay, pobre passaro," Pedro joked, leaning over to elbow the smaller bird with his wing. "You gotta get out more, Nico!"

Rafael nodded in agreement. "Just one word for you tonight, my friends: _samba_!"

"Samba?" Nico inquired, tilting his head in curiosity.

"C'mon, no way. You _serious_?" Pedro exclaimed in disbelief, gripping the canary's shoulders with both wings. "Where did you _come from_, bird? Everyone knows samba!"

"U-um… Africa, I think?" the canary said, spreading out his wings in a shrug.

"Don't worry about it, amigo," Rafael said with a kind smile. Seeing Pedro prepared to press the issue, the toucan took a discreet step towards the cardinal and lightly, though quite deliberately, pressed down on his toes; he smirked at the resulting squawk of protest.

Nico, who had been preening his feathers clean, looked up at the sound. "Uh, are you ok—" he started to say, looking mildly perturbed.

"Oh, he's fine! Isn't that right, amigo?" Rafael interjected loudly as he hopped to the edge of the roof and once again held out a wing for the canary to climb. "Come on, let's go! I'm only getting older standing around like this."

"We know, we know. Chill out, _abuelito_," Pedro said with mock annoyance, throwing a mischievous grin over his shoulder as he jumped into the air and caught the breeze. "Let's fly!"

**RIO**

Birds of every feather were squeezing past each other to enter the samba club that evening. The strobe lights and pounding music were flowing out into the street, tempting even the homebound birds passing overheard to take a detour. On the outskirts of the crowd, Pedro was hopping around energetically while Rafael assisted Nico in getting to the ground; they had just arrived on the last rays of sun, and blue-black darkness was now beginning to blanket the sky in their wake.

"Oi, that's Pedro over there," announced a hummingbird that was flitting about over the club entrance with a couple of giggling admirers, their iridescent feathers dazzling as they caught the multi-colored glow from beyond the doors. "Tudo bem, bird? You performin' tonight?"

"Nah, man," the cardinal called back, cupping his beak with his wings to project his voice. "Just hangin'!"

"Our boy's made some waves in Rio. He's a regular around here," Rafael noted helpfully as he pushed Nico forward with his beak, steering him into the thick of the clustered birds.

"He sings?" the canary inquired, throwing a disbelieving look at the toucan.

Rafael considered this for a moment and then whispered jokingly, "_Something_ like that."

"Oh." Nico caught a glimpse of Pedro, who had initially been sidetracked by a blushing yellow and black oriole, laughing and keeping several fans at wing's length while nonetheless basking in their flattery. It was only seconds before the sight was lost to the arrival of club goers packing into the vacant space.

"_Spread my wings out into the dark,_ _I'll fly away on a trip to your heart,_" a green Amazon parrot could be heard screeching passionately from the karaoke stage while Rafael and Nico drew closer to the entrance. Oxygen was a luxury as they navigated their way through the crush of feathered bodies; it seemed that every bird in Rio had it in their head to walk through the doors simultaneously. Despite this, their progress was better than most in so far as the toucan's beak had proved itself an advantageous buffer. "_Break these chains that keep us apart…_"

Nico could do little to hide his relief when the dance floor opened up before him. He had been struggling to quell his nerves, and now he began to straighten out his rumpled feathers after having been squeezed, pulled, and mashed by some of the more boisterous birds. Worse, his right wing was aching badly from the inevitable bumps and bruises he had endured, and fresh blood was seeping through the bandage he still wore from where Santos' bite had likely reopened.

"Rafael! Oi, Rafy! Ola!" a small, chubby brown puffbird hollered suddenly. He was perched on an empty wooden crate nearby that rose just above the average parrot's head.

"Ola, Cesar! Um momento," Rafael called back, waving his wing in greeting. Turning, he smiled down at Nico, who was looking around uncomfortably. "Vamos! I'll introduce you to my old amigo."

"Oh, um, actually," the canary began with an apologetic strain to his voice, "I'd rather just wait here..."

The toucan had hesitated at first; only when his gaze fixed itself on the red-stained bandage did he seem to nod in acceptance, silently berating himself for having almost forgotten his friend's injuries. He left to join Cesar, but not until after repeatedly making assurances that he would return.

"You here to sing, rapaz?" a black cockatoo suddenly yelled over the chatter and karaoke, having materialized from the thick of gathered birds out on the floor. There was a pretty young swallow under his wing, giggling to herself and leaning into her larger companion for stability.

Nico stared at them for several moments before realizing he was expected to reply. "N-not exactly..."

"E ai? What's your… like, your name, hey? I'm Quinta," the swallow piped up brightly. Her brown eyes were glazed and shifting at random as she spoke, but they just as soon snapped back to stare. "Mellow Yellow, yeah… that your name? I like that, you know…"

The canary forced a polite smile and said plainly, "I'm Nico. Just Nico."

"Nico?" the black cockatoo said with oddly narrowed eyes, tilting his head so far that he nearly tipped over onto Quinta. He began making various unusual noises, like something between choking and sniggering—the latter was more likely.

"Nico-demus… Nico-laus…" Quinta slowly vocalized with an absurd grin. "Oh… _Nicole_!"

Obnoxious laughter and jesting echoed in Nico's head long after he had disappeared into the club. He found himself staring blankly at the ground and passing birds' feet, hardly paying attention to his destination, when he chanced across Pedro—or more accurately, bumped clean into his chest.

"What up, Nico!" the cardinal greeted buoyantly, though his grin quickly faded. "Ain't you having fun?"

"Sure, you know… just tired," the canary lied instantly, plastering a grin on his beak and attempting to yawn all at once. The result was somewhat embarrassing, if not less than convincing.

Pedro eyed the smaller bird with uncertainty, then shrugged. "Right, well, where you staying at, man?"

"Uh—" Nico opened his mouth to reply and then hastily shut it, awkwardly averting his gaze as though he would find an answer to that question on the dance floor. "You know… around."

"Esta louco! I've got you covered, bird," Pedro said with a laugh, rolling his eyes and waving his wing dismissively as the canary began to protest. "Lovehawk ain't nesting tonight. _C__ompreende_?"

Rafael suddenly rushed past them, screeching to a halt only long enough to register the sight of Nico standing alongside Pedro. Easing out a sigh, he nevertheless retained a nervous edge as he stood there. "I'm sorry, amigos, I have to get home! Eva, she'll— if I don't—" the toucan started to explain hurriedly, only to stop abruptly and settle for cutting his wing across his throat with a gulp.

"It's cool, Rafy. Just chill out," Pedro said evenly, struggling not to smirk at the frazzled older bird. Truly, Eva was a force to be reckoned with, but that never seemed to make the situation less amusing. After a short beat, he added, "Nico's with me tonight. One swing by the hollow and it's boa noite! _Bueno_?"

Regaining his composure under the cardinal's pointed stare, Rafael nodded mutely in affirmation. Secretly, and somewhere beneath his fear in regards to Eva's impending wrath, the toucan fought the strong urge to chuckle—that defensive look in Pedro's eye as he hovered by Nico's side was oddly endearing. "Like brothers," he remarked with a smile, yet so quietly that it was barely a whisper.

"Como? You say something, Rafael?"

"Oh, nao importa."

**Author's Note**: _Before I forget, the snippet of lyrics being performed by the Amazon parrot is just something that I lifted from a Britney Spears song that I've honestly never even heard. I don't listen to pop, but the words were convenient. ;)_


	3. Sticky Situation

**Author's Note:** _This chapter pretty much started writing itself after I accidentally stumbled upon some unusual pictures of a golden orb weaver and a dead finch, to say the least. One thing led to another and, well… below we have the result. Meanwhile, I'm in the middle of settling into a new house and, frankly, my desk is buried in stuff, BUT I don't see this affecting my writing too much. As always, many thanks to all readers and reviewers… hope you enjoy!_

Gloomy gray clouds dominated the sky. The morning light barely illuminated a certain quaint but roomy tree hollow. Rain drizzled steadily outside the shelter; it was irrelevant to the small yellow bird who had tucked himself beneath the leaves of a shoddily built nest in a far corner. Nearby, against another wall, a heavyset cardinal was sprawled lazily in a ring of soft banana peels, his feet twitching as he slept.

"No, bird, I'm—I'm… samba… master," Pedro groaned, scrunching his face and flopping onto his back.

In the dim interior, the thin hairy leg that suddenly hooked itself on the threshold of the birds' hollow could go largely unnoticed. Slowly and eerily, leg after leg gave way to a thick brown body soaked with droplets and eight blinking eyes. There was no malice in the thing itself, and so it simply stood there for a few moments, observing the inhabitants it had stumbled upon with a blank expression—almost as if it were attempting to reconcile their presence.

"Ungh…"

Nico began rustling uncomfortably in his nest, caught in the throes of an unpleasant dream. He gasped sharply, having rolled onto his injured right wing, and then repositioned himself accordingly.

The "thing" had turned its head to watch the canary, its interest peaked by the small bird's movement, despite that he now lay calm as ever. With slow and deliberate steps—silent as air itself—it worked its way across the hollow and paused at the edge of the nest, tilting its head curiously.

Outside, the raindrops were thickening and falling harder, faster. All else was quiet.

Faceless human figures were attempting to trap Nico in his mind. He could never seem to put distance between them and himself, though he tried for what seemed like hours and until his muscles were exhausted of strength. Far behind, like an echo, he could hear that humans were not his only pursuer: Pedro's voice—laced with panic and frustration—reached him as through a fog. He turned to look back, but the humans were closing in. Now they had him cornered. He squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, reality and a fusion of sound rushed at him like a barrelling eagle.

"NICO!"

"Wha—" the canary started, blinking his bleary eyes. He turned his head towards Pedro, only to witness the cardinal staring down the largest spider he had never hoped to see. His beak fell open in horror.

Pedro threw up his wings like a shield and prepared for the worst as the unwelcome guest drew nearer. He gritted his beak and curled his toes, anticipating the pain of an attack and meanwhile cursing the sadistic lethargy with which the spider took its steps.

Nico had just taken up arms with a twig he had ripped out of his nest when he found reason to pause—the spider was rubbing affectionately against Pedro's feathers and making a sound not unlike a purr.

The cardinal squeaked at the bristling touch and peeked out from behind his wings.

"I—I think it's just a baby," the canary concluded after a moment, tucking the twig beneath his left wing.

"Uh, right…" Pedro hastily agreed, suddenly thinking to compose himself. He cleared his throat and offered the spider a hesitant pat with his wingtip. "Pretty _huge _though… for a baby."

"So its mother must be—" Nico started to say and then stopped. He gave a strained laugh and then shook his head, as though clearing his mind of the subject. Glancing outside, he noted the heavy rainfall and then looked back at the spider. "Guess that explains it…"

The pale morning glow was suddenly blacked out by a shadow, causing both birds to turn their head expectantly. They almost wished they hadn't, for what greeted them had no feathers to speak of.

A long, low hissing sound rumbled from her throat. She was larger—much larger—than her offspring. Her body was hairy, brown, and muscular. Sharp fangs gleamed at the edges of her mouth, twitching at the sight of prey. The spider's depthless eyes were alive with emotion—relief, anger, and gluttony. No sooner had she stepped into the hollow, she stood erect, stretching her legs out defensively. Aside from the terrifying guttural noise, it almost seemed like an invitation into an eight-legged embrace.

Pedro shrieked as the spider went for him with whip-like reflexes. His cheek boasted an ugly scratch that stained his feathers red, but he escaped the worst of her wrath. Scrambling like decapitated poultry, he hustled towards the hollow's exit where Nico was already waiting.

"C'mon, c'mon! Vamos!" the cardinal urged, forgetting his friend's injury in all the chaos.

"But—"

Nico lost his grip on the threshold when the spider lunged at the two birds from behind, knocking Pedro off balance and resulting in them both tumbling out into the branches. In the pouring rain that beat down on the upper canopy near where the hollow was situated, it was too slippery to catch onto the bark and the water-glazed leaves refused to hold a body for long.

Both birds fell freely but at varying speeds, losing sight of each other, until... WUMPH.

Pedro landed flat on the jungle floor, his fall cushioned by the leaves. Bemoaning the pulled feathers and bruises he had suffered from the fall, he looked around him, but there was no flash of yellow, no sign at all that a canary had fallen nearby. Instead, just a short flight overhead, above the underbrush, the leaves of a young tree began to rustle wildly despite the lack of wind.

"That you, Nico?" the cardinal inquired almost fearfully, hoping the enraged spider hadn't thrown itself down after them. He collected himself off the ground and peered upwards indecisively.

As it happened, Nico's fall had—ironically enough—been broken by a recently abandoned spider web. Though its intended shape was distorted on impact, enough of it had tangled around the small bird so as to leave him tangled and swinging from the offshoots of a sapling.

With some considerable persistence, the canary wrestled against his bonds until the web snapped. He plummeted the last couple feet to the ground and lay groaning in a feathered heap, dizzy and disoriented from the early morning clamor.

"Estas bem? You alive?" Pedro asked, hopping over to Nico's side and waving a wing in his face.

"Think so," the canary responded simply. He wearily sat up, stretching out his good wing for inspection and sighing to see that his feathers were heavy with spider's silk.

"That was…"

"Yeah."

**RIO**

"Santo tucano," Rafael uttered beneath his breath, staring down with an indecisive mixture of amusement and pity at the pair of wet and bedraggled birds who stood miserably at the base of his tree. "What _happened_, amigos?"

"Uh, _well_…"

There was a giggle from within the toucan's hollow; a number of chicks were peeking out from behind their father, curious about the two visitors. One of them squeezed past the others to get a better view. When he broke through, he immediately grinned and called down loudly, "Bom dia, Tio Pedro!"

"Hey! 'Sup, Carlito?" Pedro greeted with a careful smile, absentmindedly twitching at the sight of the wild-eyed little toucan and earning a questioning look from Nico.

"Shoo, shoo! Ana, Sofia, Manuel—your mother will hear about this! _I mean it_."

In a flurry of black feathers, the toucan chicks scattered deep into their nest and Rafael smiled with satisfaction before gliding down to join his friends. He regarded the two birds with a scrutinizing look while reiterating his earlier inquiry: "_So_, what happened?"

"Spiders," Nico said flatly, picking at the soggy bandages and sticky webbing that had become interweaved with his chest feathers.

"Not just ANY spiders," Pedro immediately assured the toucan with a grave expression. He glanced around as though he were about to say something terrible and added in a whisper, "_Birdeaters_."

Rafael looked impressed, if not somewhat skeptical. "Birdeaters, hey? That so…"

"_Some bird_ almost slept through it," the cardinal remarked jokingly, smirking as Nico elbowed him.

"_Some bird_ lost feathers before 'Mama Grande' even showed," the canary shot back with a raised eyebrow. He shook his head as though the very notion were beyond comprehension.

"What?! You were even like—oh, come_ on_, it was huge!"

"Pedro, it was a baby…"

"Uh-uh, no way. Forget it, passarinho!"

Coming between the two bantering smaller birds, Rafael extended his wings to keep them apart whilst chuckling at their antics. "Come on, you two, that's enough," he said with a practiced fatherly tone, smiling to soften his insistence. "How about staying for some breakfast? Good, let's go!"

Up inside the hollow, the toucan chicks were already feasting on a generous harvest of jungle fruits. They stopped and stared as their father arrived at the threshold with Nico and Pedro, their eyes trained on the former with interest. Although the small bird had shared their nest just a few mornings past, Rafael had never formally introduced him to the family.

"Listen, todos! Say hello to your Tio Nico," the toucan said brightly. He gave the canary in question a soft push forward.

"_Tio_?" one of the chicks murmured doubtfully to another, giving rise to a wave of murmurs.

Nico shuffled his feet awkwardly, all too aware of the fact that these "chicks" had already outgrown him. It was some comfort, admittedly, that the same could be said for Pedro. Reassured by this, he braved a tolerant smile at Rafael's brood, and they soon lost interest in giggling over their new "tiny Tio."

"Go on and eat while there's food, amigos! These kids are bottomless."

"Don't have to ask _this_ bird twice."

Pedro gorged himself on passion fruit while Nico took a seat on a loose grape instead, resuming the chore of picking his feathers clean. Noticing this, Rafael moved over towards him and pushed a couple of cherries forward. "Try some, it's good," he offered pleasantly, taking a plump cherry in his beak as though to demonstrate.

"Thanks," the canary said, half-smiling as he reached a foot toward the small fruit and brought it closer.

"De nada," the toucan replied, winking and then adding casually, "Looks like you could use some help there."

Nico immediately shook his head. "No'm fine," he alleged through a beakful of spider's silk. Far from establishing this as fact, however, the canary toppled over backwards with an undignified squeak. The harder he squirmed and fought, the more he began to resemble a white cocoon.

Rafael cleared his throat. "The offer stands! What do you say, Nico?"

"Mmph," the small bird responded pitifully, his beak wrapped tight with webbing.

**RIO**

Early afternoon sunlight had broken through the clouds, stirring the jungle back to life. Nico sat sunning himself on a large branch just outside the entrance to Rafael and Eva's hollow; every quill on his body ached from being plucked clean of stubborn, sticky spider's silk. He glanced down at the healing scab on his chest, visible now that the bandage had been removed, and the fading scratches beneath his feathers. His wing, though…

"Almost broke a wing clean off once, you know," Pedro said suddenly, his tone unusually serious. "Yeah, thought I'd never fly again. I was grounded for months, bird! I mean, _literally_."

"What'd you do?" the canary asked curiously, hopping closer to his friend.

"Started singing. Okay, whistling… at first!" the cardinal said with a grin, his eyes far away with the memory. "And I said to myself, 'Pedro, man, you're good.' Really, you know? Forgot about everything else, even flying! Well, _almost_. Never went back though, never stopped singing. Crazy, huh?"

Nico looked thoughtful, then offered a small smile. "So, next time you perform…"

"What? That's right! You ain't even heard me yet!" Pedro exclaimed, slapping a wing over his face in apparent embarrassment. Not but a moment later, though, he had jumped into the air with an excited expression. "Tomorrow night! You're sticking around, right?"

"Hadn't thought about it," the canary admitted, picking at the tree bark with his toes. "I guess so?"

"You _guess_?" Rafael said loudly, sticking his head out of the hollow. He climbed out fully and folded his wings across his chest. "Nico, you're _family_ now! Minha casa e sua casa. Comprende?"

"Got that right, bird." Pedro settled back into the branches and leaned lazily against the trunk.

Looking gratefully between his two friends, Nico found that—more and more—he could envision a future for himself in Rio. He carried only vague memories of the family he had hatched into somewhere far away: the sweet voice of his mother, the striking gold feathers of his father, the warmth of his siblings. With a pang of regret, he recalled the fever that had left him nest-bound and delirious for the better part of his time as a chick. He was often alone after his siblings learned to fly, though he begged his parents to teach him as his condition improved; they had agreed with considerable reluctance.

He was now thinking back on a certain morning that he had awoken alone in his family's hollow. They often left him behind, forever treating him with the fragility of a featherless chick. In his frustration, he had resolved to surprise everyone by flying to catch up with them. That hadn't ended well...

"Sorry," the canary uttered aloud without realizing, so lost in his thoughts that he had forgotten himself.

"Que? Sorry for what?"

Pedro and Rafael were staring strangely at the small bird.

"N-nothing! Just… spaced out," Nico said quickly, nervously scratching his head with one wing.

"Don't sweat it!" Rafael answered kindly. He turned his head towards the city with a wistful gleam in his eye. "Ah, que belo dia. Don't waste it, my friends."

"C'mon, what about _you_, Rafy? We ain't getting far otherwise," Pedro pointed out as gently as possible.

"Good point," the toucan said, stroking the underside of his beak with a wingtip.

Nico shuffled his feet anxiously. "I don't mind if—"

The canary's protest was just about immediately cut off by overlapping exclamations of "Don't even start, bird!" and "Forget about it, amigo!" Blinking in surprise, he closed his beak obediently.

"Eva won't like it," Rafael began slowly, seeming to cringe at the mere implications of his statement. He threw a look over his shoulder where large brown eyes watched from the shadows and then nodded determinedly. "But I'll see what I can do! Nao ha problema."

"Great! 'Cause here she comes," Pedro said with a strained voice, gesturing urgently for Nico to follow him into the safety of the leafy upper branches.

"If it isn't my beautiful banana! Back so soon?" Rafael spouted in one breath, his smile affectionate but tight as his wife arrived at their hollow and fixed him with a suspicious eye. "Listen, my love, I have a favor to ask. Hear me out, won't you?"

Eva grunted, rolling her eyes as her husband took her into a passionate embrace. "Ay, no! I don't want to hear it! You are _not_ sneaking off with some loucos again," she snapped at him.

"Loucos? They are my _friends_, sweet peach..."

"Ack! Everyone in RIO is your friend."

Peering down at the scene from higher up in the tree, Pedro and Nico sat tensely as the toucans conversed—a back-and-forth process involving angry outbursts from Eva matched by sappy, romantic advances from Rafael. The power struggle was hard to follow, but it was ultimately settled with flowery words, criminally cute pet names, and a few sloppy kisses that caused the smaller birds to turn away with disgust.

"What's the deal, man? You a free bird?" Pedro inquired eagerly as Rafael climbed up from his hollow.

"Hard to believe, right? Come, let's go! Hurry! She may change her mind," the toucan whispered in response, only half-joking. He waited patiently for Nico to clamber onto his back before launching himself into the clear blue sky, whooping for sheer joy as he caught the breeze.

Several birds rocketed past, their greetings to Rafael echoing behind them. Rio unraveled below and before them, causing Nico to creep forward to the toucan's shoulder with interest; the sight was truly something to behold on a clear summer afternoon. He crouched low as they swooped beneath the arm of a massive statue of Christ, feeling the cool shade wash over his burning feathers.

"Where to, Rafy?!" Pedro called as he pulled up alongside his friends and glanced over. Even with the wind on his side, he was flapping hard to hold his place. "I was thinkin' we cool off and hit the beach!"

"Don't ask _me_, amigo! What do you say, Nico? Tudo bem?" Rafael asked over his shoulder, smiling pleasantly.

"Muito bem," the canary agreed hurriedly, though his eyes remained focused on the scenery below. He was unwilling to admit just then that he had never actually _been_ to a beach. Not really. The concept wasn't totally foreign, but the personal experience was lacking.

"It's gonna be so great! Beaches are hotwing _central_," Pedro began rambling happily. His brown eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Oh, and _snow cones_… now THAT'S paradise, bird. I'm telling you—"

"Um, snow… cones?"

"Wha—you mean—you _never_ tried snow cones? Just WAIT… you have not _lived_, Nico! Like, if you thought fries were great... hah!"

Rafael shook his head and smirked. "Ay caramba, here we go again."

**Author's Note:** _I hadn't planned it, but you may have noticed that the opportunity to fill in some of Nico's backstory arose in this chapter. There is yet more to be explained, but that will come in time. Stick around! I'm on vacation until September, so I hope to write plenty more for Heartsong this month. Thanks very much for reading._


	4. Feeling So Good

**Author's Note:**_ Jeez, I can't remember the last time I was able to write anything this fast. I've pretty much had writer's block since high school. Ah well, such is the beauty of Rio. Anyway, let the music begin! Song credits at the end. Hope you all enjoy, and thanks for reading!_

"Don't look 'em in the eye."

"What, who—"

Nico instinctively glanced around to see exactly who Pedro was attempting to avoid on the bustling sandy shores, but the cardinal only gave an exasperated sigh and placed his wing around the slightly smaller bird to guide him further down the beach.

There was an art to navigating through the forest of umbrellas and lounge chairs—with enough practice, a nimble bird could almost completely avoid a near-death experience with badly aimed frisbees or human backsides. In spite of the hazards, there were always plenty of feathers flying around the water's edge on warm afternoons in Rio; among these, the seagulls' presence was particularly hard to miss.

"Peeedro. Where you BEEN, menino?!"

The cardinal stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of the voice. He plastered an impressive grin onto his face before reluctantly turning on his heel to face the speaker.

"_Fabio_… yeah, 'sup? Love to chat, but _kinda _busy. Okay! Ciao, bird!"

"Hey, hey, cool it. What's your rush, man?" the seagull said with a frown. "Ain't we friends?"

"_Uh-huh_," Pedro managed to reply through a gritted beak, his large grin still in place.

"Well, introduce me then! Who's the new kid?" Fabio inquired eagerly, shoving a wing forward to greet Nico, who only stared at it for several seconds before registering that he was meant to shake it.

After a moment of hesitation, the canary opened his beak to introduce himself when Pedro suddenly stepped in front, blocking him from the seagull's view, and said gravely, "Wouldn't do that, bird. Yeah, uh… he's sick! Real sick. Just sayin'."

Fabio tilted his head in confusion, but ultimately began to back away with his wings up in defense. "Whatever you say, hombre. I trust you! We good, right?"

"_Totally_," the cardinal assured him seriously, forcing his grin to remain until the seagull had finally disappeared from view. When he turned around, Nico was watching him with an unreadable expression.

"I'm not judging, but…"

Pedro laughed and waved his wing dismissively. "Nah, it's cool. Sorry 'bout that. We go way back, but I _hate_ that guy."

Overhead, Rafael suddenly swooped low and whistled to get the smaller birds' attention. "This way, amigos!" he called, jerking his beak towards the pavement at the edge of the beach where a metal cart labeled "Sno Kones" stood unguarded. With that, the toucan caught a draft up and over the umbrella forest, staggering his flight some feet above to compensate for his friends' sluggish progress on foot.

Nico and Pedro were equally out of breath when they arrived at the boundary between sand and sidewalk. The sun-kissed pavement, stretched out before them like a black sea, was practically bubbling in the afternoon heat. Even with that, the snow cone cart was a worthy temptation…

"Hot, hot hot!" the cardinal yelped. He had barely touched the manmade ground before jumping into the air, flapping his wings hard to stay airborne while blowing frantically on his burning feet.

With a hint of amusement in his smile, Rafael touched down nearby. "Not backing out now, are you?"

"No way, Rafy! We're talking snow cones here," Pedro declared loudly. Puffing out his chest, he fixed a narrowed gaze on the metal cart and uttered lowly, "Let's do this."

"Right behind you, amigo," the toucan chuckled in response, hopping to the edge of the curb and stretching his wings wide for flight. He threw a look at Nico and winked, gesturing that the canary should stay back and wait. "Um momento!"

There was nothing stealthy about two birds knocking over syrup bottles and paper cups in an effort to serve snow cones. Before long, a small crowd of tourists had gathered around with cameras. The actual vendor was nowhere to be found and it could only be speculated that they wandered off after some distraction or another—it wasn't difficult to imagine why on a beach full of scantily clad customers.

Merry whistling broke through the human chatter and other background noises, inviting those who picked up on it to glance around. It originated with a rather decrepit looking bird—mostly green with red and blue accents. He was perhaps beautiful in his day, but his lack of chest feathers, missing toes, and chipped beak now did little for his physical appearance.

"_Birds flying high, you know how I feel_," the elderly green macaw began to sing as he strolled along in the sand, his eyes closed and his body swaying gently to his own tune. "_Sun in the sky, you know how I feel…_"

Nico absent-mindedly hopped forward, feeling a strange urge to follow after the source of the raspy, soulful voice. He quickly glanced around to ensure that he was still alone before experimentally mouthing the next few lines in time with the parrot: "_Breeze driftin' on by, you know how I feel…"_

Tapping his foot a bit, the canary began to half-speak, half-sing—though so softly that he could barely even hear himself. _"It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me_."

"Mmh! _And I'm feeling good_," the old macaw continued on, entirely unaware of his admiring audience. Even as his voice began to fade into the beach ambience, Nico strained his ear to catch what little more of the lyrics that he could. He quietly sung back what he heard: "_I'm feeling good_…"

Long after the tune was done, it echoed loud and clear in the corners of the canary's mind. He stood staring into space for a long while, enjoying the odd, warm feeling that the song had stirred in him.

"Nico! Hey, Nico! Snap out of it, bird."

"Wha? I wasn't—I mean, I was! But—I—"

"S'all good! Can't help checkin' out the hotwings," Pedro said with a mischievous grin, exchanging an amused look with Rafael. The two birds were fluttering just above the sidewalk, each clutching a small paper cup brimming with shaved ice and syrup.

The canary ducked his face to hide the blush beneath his feathers, and meanwhile breathed a sigh of relief that his singing hadn't been overheard after all.

"Thought I heard ol' Abram around earlier," Rafael remarked as he carefully set his paper cup down and dropped onto the sand. He wore a knowing smile, yet avoided Nico's wondering stare, adding, "We're old amigos, you know? Quite a singer in his day!"

"Oh, yeah?" the canary managed to say, flashing a weak smile.

"C'mon, c'mon! This stuff ain't gonna wait," Pedro piped up impatiently, looking between the sun and his snow cone with distress. He waved Nico over and said very seriously, "Alright, watch how I do." The cardinal promptly went into the ice headfirst, working his way through it from the bottom-up with loud slurps. When he emerged, having licked the cup clean, he nodded with satisfaction and curled his wing into something like a thumbs up. "Got that?"

"Uh…"

Nico gripped the edges of his own paper cup and stared at it timidly for a moment. Shrugging, he dipped his beak into the ice and felt the first wave of cool, refreshing sweetness dribble down his throat. The craving for more was instant, and when he at last pulled himself away from the treat, his topmost feathers seemed to have been dyed royal blue.

"Good, right?!" Pedro asked hopefully, waiting for the canary to nod his agreement before saying, "Alright! Told ya, didn't I? Give me some wing!"

"Dios mio, just look at you two. You'll be washing those feathers for a week," Rafael chuckled, shaking his head in disapproval as the two smaller birds high-fived over the empty paper cups.

**RIO**

Snow cones had an interesting effect on Pedro, who was already energetic to begin with. The green-stained cardinal had been flying spastically about, doing various loops and twirls mid-air, ever since they had arrived on a clear stretch of beach at the base of a rocky outcrop.

Rafael was walking beside Nico, humming a favorite tune and occasionally pointing out something of interest. With the tourists out of sight and out of mind, the canary had only just begun to soak in the marvels of the beach—he was wide-eyed as he observed the gentle waves lapping on the sandy shores and the palm trees rustling in the warm breeze.

"Turtle eggs," the toucan announced after a few minutes, stretching his wing to point out the scattered mounds they were approaching, one of which Pedro had just landed atop of.

Nodding his head to some beat that only he could hear, the cardinal began to spin about in a wild dance while singing loudly, "_Move, dance… be born_!" He repeated the chant several times before muttering, "_Lose your body, leave your mind…_" and then once again practically yelling, "_Move, dance, be born!_"

"Not his best performance," Rafael said jokingly to Nico, who was staring at the hyperactive bird.

"N-no, he's good!" the canary responded, looking up at the toucan with sincere eyes.

There was a sudden cracking noise and Pedro squawked in surprise, tumbling back off the egg mound and into the sand. Tiny green limbs appeared, followed by a curious head that waved around in the air until its eyes settled directly on a certain cardinal.

"Rafy? Little help here, man…"

More cracking and within a minute, there was a small stampede of baby turtles following after Pedro, who was doing all he could to avoid losing his tail feathers to their hungry, gaping mouths. Nico and Rafael stood back and watched with shameless amusement as the cardinal raced manically through the sand, yelling at the top of his lungs.

"Shouldn't we—"

"Nah! Our boy can handle it," Rafael smirked, putting a wing around the canary and turning him towards a tide pool. He nodded towards the water with his beak. "Why don't you go wash up?"

Looking over his shoulder to ensure that Pedro was still (barely) outrunning his pursuers, Nico relented to the toucan's suggestion and hopped his way over to the edge of a small rocky basin covered with starfish and urchins. He peered at the creatures uncertainly, having never seen the likes of them before, and then carefully waded up to his knees. Slowly and carefully, he dipped his good wing into the pool and used it to splash himself a bit, savoring the coolness against his quills.

The waves were beginning to crash harder against the shore, creeping up towards the tide pools. Very near shore, a group of tourists were ripping up the sea with a motorboat, leaving the water frenzied in their wake. It was more than enough to drag a small, unsuspecting bird out to sea.

Nico scarcely knew what had hit him as he was sent tumbling beneath a wave, scraping his back against the swirling sand and feeling the salt burn his eyes. When the force pushed him up, he coughed and sputtered for air before being dragged under again. His mind was dizzy, his thoughts disoriented—enough so that he couldn't even claim to be panicking.

His surroundings changed from blue-green to orange-red without a moment's notice, though the water remained just the same. Meanwhile, gravity seemed to be shoving him down against a fleshy wall. For a moment, he thought he saw himself in the company of one of Pedro's baby turtles, but before he could so much as consider that, he was thrown sideways into another fleshy wall by an unexpected impact. Sunlight flashed through a crack and he fought his way up towards it, emerging into an air pocket. He breathed in deeply, only to choke on the overpowering smell of raw fish.

Something took hold of his injured wing and he was forcibly yanked from what he could now see had been a large brown pelican's throat pouch. He had little time to be relieved—his "savior" tossed him into the sand and through bleary eyes, he could see an irritated seagull looming over him.

"Aww, man! That you, new kid? Just great, lunch got away after all," Fabio groaned, crossing his wings and scuffing his foot in annoyance. Any further complaints were indistinct to the exhausted, half-drowned canary; he felt the draft from the seagull's wings as he carelessly departed, but even that was faint as the small bird drifted into perfect blackness beneath the blue skies.

**RIO**

"He looks kinda… blue. You SURE he's alive?"

"Pedro, c'mon, that's the snow cone."

"Eh, I don't know, Rafy…"

Nico opened his eyes and blinked in the bright light. He sat up with a start, half-expecting to find himself surrounded by cage wires and light bulbs, but to his relief, it was only sunlight and freedom that greeted his red-veined eyes—that and the faces of two very concerned friends.

"You okay, bird? We thought you were dead!" Pedro exclaimed, slashing his wing clean across his throat for dramatic effect.

"_He_ thought you were dead," Rafael corrected, throwing a smirk at the cardinal. With a far graver expression, he turned to the canary and said, "I'm _sorry_, amigo. I shoulda been watching. Ay, I just—"

"I'm okay," Nico interjected as he slowly pushed himself to his feet. "And it was… fun." He laughed a bit to himself when the toucan gave him a look of utter disbelief—his beak was practically falling open. "Um, maybe that's the snow cone talking."

Pedro stared for a moment and then burst into complete hysterics. "Okay, now I _know_ you're louco!" he grinned, accidentally nudging the sheepish-looking canary on his injured wing.

Rafael, who had been watching observantly, began to frown when Nico smiled to hide a wince of pain. "Wing," he said calmly, motioning that the small bird should extend it for his inspection while fixing him with a practiced look that plainly stated "don't make me wait."

Gritting his beak with the effort, the canary reluctantly stretched his left wing out. He held it steady until the toucan tapped it lightly with the tip of his beak, at which point he recoiled, looking anguished.

"Back where we started," Rafael announced with a sigh, spreading his wings out helplessly.

Nico wasn't listening anymore. He had shifted his attention to the impending sunset—the fluffy white clouds on the horizon were splashed with warm hues and the sky was a gradient of blue and lavender. The few birds that still soared over the sparkling orange waves were now nothing more than silhouettes against a breathtaking view.

Rafael smiled, seeing the canary's fixation. "Ah, belissimo," he commented softly. "Nothing quite like it."

"Mmh, yeah. Belo, belo! _That's _what I'm talkin' about," Pedro said delightedly, though his mind was far from appreciating the sunset with his friends. He was, in fact, already wandering off after a group of hotwings, calling ahead, "Boa noite, ladies!"

There was momentary silence in the cardinal's wake, and then...

"Thanks… um, _obrigado_," Nico mumbled out of the blue, glancing up at Rafael.

"Que? Thanks for what, amigo?" the toucan asked, flashing a curious smile at the small bird.

"You know! Everything," the canary said quietly as he toed at the sand. He turned his gaze over to where Pedro was courting several lady birds at once with seemingly little luck and said again, "Really… thanks."

"Hey, don't mention it! We're family, you know?" Rafael winked in response. With that, he stepped forward and began strolling down the beach by the light of the dying sun, breaking out into a strangely familiar song: "_Fish in the sea, you know how I feel…_"

Nico stood there looking stunned. It took a while before he thought to scramble after the departing toucan, and by the time he caught up, the song had progressed to, "_It's a new dawn, it's a new day… it's a new life for me_."

"That… song…" the canary panted, more or less jogging to match the older bird's long strides.

Rafael raised an eyebrow; there was an impish air about him as he paused in his singing to ask rather breezily, "What? You know it?"

"N-no!" Nico hastily denied. He was quiet for a moment. "Uh… well, _maybe_ you could teach me?"

"Teach you?" the toucan said with a chuckle. He stopped, placed his wingtip over the small bird's heart, tapped twice, and said firmly, "I can't teach you, amigo. It's already in _here_."

"Oh…" the canary said quietly, instinctively looking down at his chest. He stared so long, as though waiting for answers, that when he looked up, Rafael was already a few feet further down the beach. Snapping out of his trance, he took off running after his friend again, so hurried that he nearly tripped over his own feet. "W-wait, Rafael! I don't understand!"

"But you will!" the toucan called back over his shoulder, cheerfully starting up his song again. "_And I'm feeling good…_"

**Author's Note:** _Alrighty, so in case you were wondering, the songs used in this chapter were "Feeling Good" by Michael Buble and "Move Dance Be Born" by Yello. Oh, and if all goes according to plan, the next chapter should contain some sort of epic club performance courtesy of Pedro. That's all for now!_


	5. Tonight's Music

**Author's Note:** Dear reviewers, you are awesome. Thank you kindly to EmmerzK, ILOVENICO1000X, and Strykeruk! As promised, this chapter contains a performance from Pedro. Song credits at the end. Oh, and if it isn't obvious, the first scene is a flashback to fill out Nico's backstory more. Please enjoy, and as always, thank you for reading! On with the story…

"_Mum, could you PLEASE make him stop?"_

_Three canary chicks were staring desperately up at their mother, their wings held tightly over their ears. At the back of their hollow, a fourth chick was singing a scratchy rendition of some song or another—it was difficult to tell exactly which with the violent coughing fits that punctuated each verse._

"_Nico, honey…" He wasn't listening in the least. If anything, he only sang louder to drown out his family's protests (though that only lasted as far as his next bout of coughing)._

"_Boy, I hope he's not contagious," one of the chicks whispered to his quietly giggling sisters._

"_Alba, Zuri, Marx," the mother canary addressed her children wearily, rubbing her head with both wingtips. "Why not play outside for a while?"_

"_Yes! Last one out is a rotten egg," chirped Zuri in delight as she fluttered to the threshold._

"_Hey, no fair! You got a head start!"_

_Nico stopped singing to watch his siblings leave with a deep frown. He threw a pointed look at his mother and then turned away, pulling his wings around him and curling up at the corner of his nest. "You never let me go with them," he mumbled unhappily._

_His mother sighed deeply; her deep brown eyes were nothing but apologetic. "You're sick, Nico…"_

"_Am not," the canary chick scoffed, struggling to subdue his urge to cough._

"_Why don't I sing for you?" Nico's mother asked gently after a long stretch of silence. She offered a warm smile, placing a wing on her youngest son's shoulder. "That might help you sleep."_

_There was no answer, only a "humph" and the not quite rhythmic sound of labored breathing._

"Por ahi va, por ahi va… la mariposa por el aire, por ahi—"

"_I'm tired now," Nico said abruptly, shrugging off his mother's touch and effectively putting an end to her song. He could feel her presence lingering for a while and then, finally, he was alone—she had departed the hollow to check on her other children. Squeezing his eyes shut, the canary chick nestled even deeper into his bedding and attempted to actually rest._

_It was a losing battle and he sat up almost immediately. Hopping to his feet, he stepped out of the nest as quietly as he could and wandered over to the threshold, eager to catch a rare glimpse of the world outside. And what a sight to behold…_

_The bright blue sky, white hot sun, towering green trees, and crisp air would have inspired a song in any bird—and particularly any canary. For days like this, Nico knew that his father had a special song. He often heard him singing it in the early morning just outside the hollow, and now he longed to borrow it. He wanted nothing more than to match his father's voice and sing it for himself, and so he did:_ "River running free, you know how I feel! Blossom on a tree, you know how I—"

"_Muuuum! He's doing it again!"_

_That evening, Nico listened sorrowfully as his parents banded together to explain that if he continued to sing while his throat was still sore, he would lose his voice forever. With his head held low, he had asked when he would get better, but the two canaries had only exchanged a nervous glance and claimed that it would be soon; in truth, their youngest chick had been in poor health right out of the shell, and there was no telling when his condition might improve._

"_What's worse than a canary who can't sing?" Marx later whispered, sniggering._

"_Um, a canary who can't sing OR fly," Zuri chuckled guiltily in response._

"_Shh! Quiet or __Mum's__ going to hear you two," Alba warned softly from her place in the nest._

_Nico said nothing, having long found it best to ignore his siblings when they got this way, and especially his older brother. He pretended to be asleep until their whispers faded and ceased altogether. Rubbing his throat with one wing, he sighed as he stared into the darkness._

"_Someday," the canary chick breathed out so low that he scarcely produced a sound. "Just wait…"_

**RIO**

It was well into the afternoon, but Pedro and Nico had just arrived at the edge of the city after walking most of the way through the jungle from the cardinal's hollow. Although he had apologized profusely for it, Rafael was committed to watching after his brood for the day while Eva tended to a newly hatched chick.

"Um, why we aren't helping Rafael babysit again?"

"Nico, Nico, Nico," Pedro sighed, shaking his head and fixing his friend with a sidelong stare.

"What?" the canary asked with a raised eyebrow, shrugging his wings.

"Just trust me, bird."

"But—"

"Uh-uh. _Trust me_."

Nico clamped his beak shut obediently, walking on through the streets in silence for a while. As usual, there was no shortage of activity far as the eye could see; tourists weaved in and out of shops while birds, monkeys, and other visitors from the jungle followed after them with an eye for opportunity. Food, gadgets, and pleasantly shiny objects—it was all fair game for curious critters.

"Ven aqui!" Pedro exclaimed suddenly, veering sharply to the left and almost walking straight into a passing bicyclist. There was a look of entrancement about him usually reserved for one of two things: hotwings and good food.

Sure enough, there was a vendor setting up shop on the adjacent sidewalk; he boasted donuts of all kinds—sprinkled, jam-filled, glazed—freshly made and begging to be eaten. As such, he could already be seen fending off the boldest thieves of the bird community with a large red umbrella.

"Follow my lead!"

Once safely across the street, the two small birds ducked into the shadows of the donut cart's underside where their presence would go unnoticed behind the large aluminum wheels.

"Wait for it…"

Soon enough, a plump chocolate donut was sent rolling to the ground by a careless human hand. Pedro jumped on the opportunity with a determined battle cry—he raced out from underneath the cart to catch up with the escaping treat, his brow furrowed with perfect concentration. When he finally tackled his prey, he placed it around his waist like a swimming tube and grinned victoriously at Nico.

The canary tilted his head, looking mildly amused. "You eat like this _every _day?"

"Sure do," the cardinal responded like it was the most natural thing in the world. With a teasing smirk, he added, "What? Not missing birdseed, are ya?"

Nico grimaced at the thought. "Not a chance…"

"Then c'mon, let's eat! I'm starvin' and I've still gotta perform tonight."

Between the two of them, it was only a matter of minutes before nothing was left of the donut but a cloud of powdered sugar and chocolate crumbs. Afterwards, they sat around on the street curb for a while simply enjoying the weight in their bellies and the warm sun on their feathers.

Pedro stretched his wings out lazily and then hopped to his feet, motioning for Nico to follow suit. "Club's across town. Got a long walk, but I know a few shortcuts," he explained with a shrug before starting towards an alleyway.

The canary hesitated to follow after his friend. "You could fly," he suggested, giving his injured wing a pained look. "I'll meet you there."

"Whatever, bird!" the cardinal immediately laughed in response. Flexing his wing muscles, he added jokingly, "The fans like me staying fit, know what I mean?"

They emerged from the alley and found themselves on a quiet road, but Pedro paused all the same, listening expectantly. Seconds later, an old car with a rattling engine screeched around a bend and sped past them—the gust of wind in its wake stirred up bits of litter and tore a poster clean off a street lamp. Before any bird could blink, the large paper had flattened Nico against the nearest wall.

"Ouch," Pedro uttered sympathetically as the canary slid to the ground and fought his way out from beneath the offending poster, groaning with annoyance. He moved closer to assist him before something caught his eye. "Huh."

"What _now_…"

"Ain't that you?" the cardinal asked, looking confused as he pointed to the poster.

Nico frowned at the black and white photo. It had been his first and only experience with what the humans called a camera, and he was featured more or less cowering in the hands of a smiling young girl—his former "owner," Carmen. Squinting at the bold text, he slowly began to read the poster: "Missing pet… offering reward for safe return…"

"Don't worry 'bout it, man," Pedro said brightly, placing a wing across his friend's shoulders. "You got some of the best birds in Rio at your back! Believe it!"

The canary looked up from the poster with a half-smile and nodded in agreement. Despite this, he looked somewhat ill over the idea that the humans still threatened his freedom; it stirred up distinct memories of his initial capture as a hapless chick. Sighing softly, he kicked at the paper's edge.

"You call that believin'?! Serious now, bird. Cages pop like soda tops 'round here."

Next thing that Nico knew, there was a literal soda top—a green and blue bottle cap, specifically—being waved in his face. He blinked at it in surprise, unsure what he was meant to think, let alone where it had even been found, until Pedro flipped it onto his golden head with a large grin.

"So you don't forget!" the cardinal declared plainly, clearly amused with himself. For further emphasis, he prepared to reiterate his statement, saying, "Cages pop—"

"Like soda tops. I know," the canary chuckled, using his good wing to tap his new hat. "Thanks, Pedro."

**RIO**

The lights were low and the music was pounding in the club that evening. Birds of every feather had crammed themselves into the dance floor so tightly that a single hummingbird would soon find it difficult to find a place in the sea of bobbing heads. Nico was peeking out at all this from behind a tarp backstage where he would be able to watch the evening's performance while being spared the brutality of a crowd drunk on nectar.

"Pedro! Pedro! Pedro!" a few birds began to chant loudly; it spread like wildfire.

"That's my cue," the cardinal grinned, emerging from within an old fruit crate that served as his "trailer." He stretched his wings until they made a slight popping sound and then started towards his opening position when a quivering flycatcher suddenly jumped in front of him, looking bug-eyed.

"Senor? Un problema… our drummer is, eh, no bueno," the little bird whispered, cringing as he jerked his head in the direction of a sickly looking yellow parakeet slumped over a pair of empty tuna cans.

"Wha? Aww, man! Not _again_, Enzo!" Pedro groaned, burying his head in his wings with annoyance. After a second, he practically jumped into the air, his eyes wide with excitement as he spun around and pointed wildly at none other than… "NICO!"

The canary turned at the sound of his name, looking confused. "Uh, yeah… what's up, Pedro?"

"I need you, bird! You gotta improvise, okay? Get a rhythm going! Like, uh… like this!" the cardinal said as he snatched the bottle cap off his friend's head and began to tap it with one wing. "Got that?"

"You sure about—"

"No time! Otavio, show him the beat," Pedro instructed the lingering flycatcher. As he walked past his bewildered friend towards the edge of the curtained stage, he curled his wing into a thumbs up and called over his shoulder, "Countin' on you, Nico! Gonna be great, don't even worry!"

"B-but…"

"Arriba! Andale!" the flycatcher burst out anxiously, hustling Nico towards a makeshift platform.

The club was practically shaking now as the crowd's hollering, accompanied by impatiently stamping feet, became gradually all the louder: "_Pedro! Pedro! Pedro!_"

"Uno…" Lights were shut off one by one until the club was left in blackness; the birds whistled and hollered in anticipation. "Dos…" Soft violet lamps blinked to life above the stage as tarps were pulled aside and Pedro strutted out, his form obscured by the still heavy shadows. He paused at the edge of the stage, allowing the atmosphere to build until the air was practically ringing with energy, and finally uttered, "Tres."

"Get ready, party birds!" the cardinal yelled as his beat began. He threw up his wings as the spotlights engulfed him where he stood, and with a smirk of satisfaction, he began to sing: "_Oh, they don't understand that I just wanna dance! That I just wanna dance! I just, I just wanna dance!_"

Nico blinked in surprise as a beam of color was thrown his way, glinting off the bottle cap he was tapping hard with his good wing. He took a deep breath and looked over at Pedro, who was now leaning close to the crowd, hovering on the very rim of the stage, and singing, "_And they don't even know that I'm about to blow! Yeah, I'm about to blow! I'mma, I'mma 'bout to blow!_"

"_And I just wanna hit the club and drop it to the floor_," the cardinal sang, bringing his body lower and lower in a constant sway while nodding his head to the music. "_And when they think I've had enough, then I'mma give 'em more! We rock it through the night, and then we rock it through the day…_"

The dance floor was pulsing with bodies and from that seas of chaos, iridescent feathers occasionally flew upwards toward the strobe lights like confetti . "_The only button we know how to p-p-press is p-p-play!_" numerous voices joined in singing from the crowd.

"_Eh, eh, eh, ehhh_." Pedro winked as he leapt into the air and flipped backwards until he landed on an old wooden crate draped with cloth. "_I wanna show it! So I'mma keep it going… PLAAAY! Eh, eh, eh, ehhh. Don't stop the music! DJ, just keep it moving…_" He snapped his wing out to direct a spotlight towards a large green iguana who was cheerfully bobbing his head and spinning a disc in the wrong direction on a broken CD player at the back of the club.

"_PLAAAAY! Eh, eh, eh, ehhh! Don't stop the music! DJ, just keep it moving!_"

By now, even Nico was thoroughly absorbed in the flow of the song. He tapped his foot as he continued beating on the bottle cap, even flashing a genuine smile at the crowd. The energy _was_ addicting.

"_If you ain't from the play… get up out of my way, get up out of my way! G-Get up out of my way!_" the cardinal was singing now, soaring just above his audience, circling around, and then dropping in amidst a group of hotwings with a sly grin. "_'Cause I'm about to mosh! Do it just like a boss, do it just like a boss… do it just like a boss!_"

Whoops and hollers sounded as Pedro shot upwards and looped around a few fruit crates before returning to the stage. "_And I just wanna hit the club and drop it to the floor! And when they think I've had enough, then I'mma give 'em more!_" He grinned at the crowd with utter adrenaline as he leapt up on a stack of cans and pumped a wing to rile them up even more. That done, he took a moment to glance over at Nico—in that split second, they locked eyes and the canary offered a smile, holding his bottle cap a little higher with a reassuring nod. "_We rock it through the night, and then we rock it through the day! The only button we know how to p-p-press is p-p-play… eh, eh, eh, ehhh!_"

"_I wanna show it! So I'mma keep it going! PLAAAY!_" For those within the club just then, feeling how the air crackled with enthusiasm and enjoyment, it seemed that all of Rio must be rocking along with Pedro. The cardinal's eyes were brimming with pleasure and shining all the brighter beneath the occasional flash of neon light. "_Eh, eh, eh, ehhh! Don't stop the music! DJ, just keep it mov—"_

White and blue sparks rained down from the ceiling as one of the tarps that covered the club suddenly came crashing down. From the gaping hole, a shadowed figure dropped in and stepped onto the stage, his yellow teeth glinting as he moved beneath the eerie glow of a dangling UV lamp.

"_So_ sorry to barge in like this," the large ugly rat lamented mockingly to no one in particular. He glanced around expectantly, his eyebrow raised. "Not interrupting, am I?"

"Santos!" Pedro exclaimed with a glare, turning his back on the dance floor where the crowd's energy had turned on a dime from blissful to chaotic. Shrieks and moans pierced the air as the birds trapped beneath the fallen tarp worked to claw their way out; others, caught up in the panic, pushed and shoved each other in a desperate battle to gain altitude and flee the scene.

Nico had almost dropped his bottle cap upon sighting Santos. He slowly stepped back before realizing that his heel had hit the edge of the platform he was standing on. Either way, something caught his eye—and to his horror, he realized that the shadows of the club were now alive with beady eyes and naked tails. Mice, rats… every size and color: they were descending on the birds like a swarm of angry bees, gnashing their teeth and gritting their nails against the earth. The squeaks and scratches melded together like an unearthly choir, causing the canary to shudder deep within his bones.

"I really _didn't _want it to come to this," Santos sighed, his paws spread out helplessly. He paused, his eyes darkening even as he broke into a strange grin over the madness and desperation all around him. "But here we are…"

**Author's Note:** _Well, that song was "Play" by Taio Cruz. You might know the name from the end credits of Rio. Give it a listen if you haven't heard it already! It struck me as something Pedro could sing well. Also, if you're interested to know, the song that Nico's mother briefly sang is just a Spanish nursery rhyme called "Mariposa," annnd the tiny clip of a song mentioned as his father's song was the same Michael Buble song from the last chapter. Anyway, no worries, Nico himself will perform soon enough. That bit's all planned out in my head, but there's still a gap to finish bridging, so it probably won't be next chapter or anything. We'll get there though! Slowly. ;)_


	6. Fire And Water

**Author's Note:** _Oh jeez, I'm sorry this took so long compared to my last few updates, guys. Now might be a good time to mention that I suffer from chronic wrist tendinitis… which doesn't mean I can't write, but it does mean that pain and swelling occasionally interferes with my creative output. In any case, bear with me because this story will get finished one way or another. I promise. Read on, read on! Oh, and like always, thank you for the reviews!_

"You birds…" Santos drawled boredly, scratching at his ear with one foot as though all the noise had begun to bother him. He exhaled loudly and turned towards Pedro, his nearest listening audience. "Gotten cozy, haven't you lot? Strutting around the city, humans catering to your every whim while WE starve in the sewers." A few mice and rats nearby squeaked their agreement, pink tails slapping the floor with anger. "Why, just _look_ at the meat on you…"

"You're no pile of bones," Pedro muttered in his own defense, flinching as Santos snarled in reply.

"Back off!" Nico instinctively burst out. He gulped as the large rat quirked his ears towards him and then, with painful leisure, turned fully his way. They stared at each other over a long stretch of silence until a spark of recognition suddenly appeared in the very depths of those cold black eyes.

"I know you… you're _that_ bird. The one who got away," Santos mused, scratching his hairy gray chin almost thoughtfully. "Guess that makes you fast food. My guilty pleasure."

The canary gripped his bottle cap tighter, working hard to maintain an even stare in the rat's direction. Despite these efforts, he could already feel his legs betraying him—his knees felt weak and he was starting to quiver from the toes up.

"I'm n-not afraid of you."

"Oh no?" Santos twirled a whisker around in his fingers and sighed. "Too bad. Fear adds a certain _spice_."

Pedro was motioning wildly for Nico to leave, holding out his right wing before letting it fall limply at his side as though the small bird needed any reminder of his present disability and, by extension, his disadvantage in a confrontation with a huge rat. He repeated the demonstration several times for effect.

"You were lucky last time, my little appetizer…"

"Ajuda, ajuda! FIRE!" came a loud cry from the dance floor, drawing attention to the sparks that had just set one of the tarps aflame. With this, the panic of any bird remaining in the club was renewed; the rats and mice lingered uncertainly in the shadows, but not for long.

Santos' black stare danced with a flickering orange glow as he watched the apocalyptic scene unfold. His tail was curled up with anger when his attention snapped back to Nico and Pedro and his eyes shifted dangerously between them.

"No way…"

The cardinal's gaze was firmly fixed on his haven as the blaze ate away at tarps and crates, slowly spreading towards the stage. He was a sorrowful sight—shoulders slumped, wings drooping, beak gaping, and eyes wide. Fallen tarps and broken lights could be fixed, but THIS? There would be little salvation for the club once the fire had run its course, and he was helpless to do anything but watch.

"Pedro, snap out of it!" Nico pleaded. He had hopped off his platform and was slowly inching closer to his friend, one eye carefully trained on Santos. "_Please_. We have to get out of here…"

"No one leaves before dessert," the rat said lowly, calm enough that he seemed all the more deranged. He stalked forward, causing the canary to freeze instantly in his tracks, and then paused. A shadow fell over his face without warning; his eyes looked faraway. "The humans loved me once. But they got a little bird. One just like you. New and shiny. Forgot me! And I was _so hungry_…"

Santos, silhouetted by the bright flames, was closing the gap again. His tongue was lolling out between words, leaving a trail of spit behind him. "I chewed the bars. I was so hungry. That little bird… _I had to_…"

Nico gasped as the enormous gray rat lunged at him. Summoning all the strength he could muster, he whipped his bottle cap off his head and slammed it between the gnashing yellow teeth that threatened to leave him wounded again. His right wing began to ache with the strain, but he ignored it.

Pedro blinked rapidly, his brain sluggishly registering the sound of grinding metal. He turned from the dance floor to see Santos forcing his weight down on Nico, whose chest was heaving with fear and effort alike.

CRACK.

The stunned rat quickly fell back, paws clutching at his bruised skull where he had just been struck by a light bulb dropped from above. He looked up, glaring, in time to see Pedro—who looked smug in spite of the circumstances—descend from a thickening cloud of smoke.

Nico flashed a smile at the cardinal, snatched up his bottle cap, and raced toward a pile of fruit crates that were stacked backstage. He hopped up onto a pile of oranges that were spilling out, holding his breath as he balanced his weight to keep the fruit from rolling out underneath him. When he looked behind him though, he froze altogether.

Feathers and fur were flying. Santos, his head shaking and mouth foaming like a mad dog, had caught hold of Pedro's tail and was attempting to bring him down before he could make his escape.

It was a long shot, but taking careful aim with his good wing, Nico let his bottle cap fly like a razor sharp boomerang. He watched with a twisted sort of glee as the large rat nearly toppled over, screeching in pain and pressing both paws over his right eye. When the bottle cap returned, the canary caught it on his wingtip and allowed it to spin out before placing it back firmly on his head.

"Let's go, let's go!" Pedro urged, shooting over to the fruit crates and hovering anxiously.

Nico nodded, scrambled further up the pile of oranges and then stopped to cough into his wing. Black smoke was overtaking what little good air remained as the blaze spread over to the stage curtains and slowly worked its way down the fabric.

_No way out_, the canary was beginning to think, feeling miserable as he glanced around for a hint of an escape that was within his reach. Coughing again, he looked up and called, "Get out of here, Pedro!"

"Have you gone _louco_?! I ain't leaving without you, man!" the cardinal declared in response, frowning down stubbornly even as he dodged floating cinders.

The two small birds stared each other down, their eyes daring the other to make the first move. When a section of flaming fabric came crumpling down nearby, though, they both jumped and Nico hopped atop another orange, throwing his friend an expression that plainly said, "What now?"

Pedro squinted to look through the smoke, his beak set in a grim line. After a minute, he brightened up, donned a mischievous smirk, and announced calmly: "Chill, bird. I've got an idea…"

**RIO**

"_This_ was your idea?!"

"Beats dying…"

Passing above the fruit market—which was now half-charred—Nico could see several humans kicking at blackened rubble and scratching their heads over the destruction. He was dangling upside down, one foot locked tightly with Pedro's and his good wing flapping hard to keep them both airborne, but with every passing second, they were losing altitude faster and faster; it seemed the city was coming up to meet them.

"Can't… hold… it…" the cardinal breathed out, panting heavily. He strained his muscles until they failed him altogether and his wings folded forcibly to his sides. "Uh-oh…"

From the look of things, death wouldn't be cheated so easily.

They plummeted into an alleyway like feathered stones, but with some luck, their fall was broken first by a line of laundry and then by the large pile of garbage bags that were overflowing from a dumpster. In the faint glow of a street lamp, a few mice who had been scavenging the area could be seen scampering off as the birds dropped in among them, their startled squeaks echoing in the night.

At long last, perfect stillness.

Nico stirred from a deep slumber what seemed like minutes later. He blinked up at the sliver of sky that was visible to him. It was almost sunrise. Groggy and sore, the canary rolled onto his feet and looked down at his feathers—his usual yellow tint was so masked by smoke residue that he could have passed for a miniature crow.

"Pedro? C'mon, wake up!"

"Ungh… five more minutes, Mami," the cardinal grumbled tiredly, heaving himself onto his back and flopping down again like a dying fish. After a second, he cracked an eye open. "You're not Mami…"

The canary rolled his eyes, giving his friend a gentle nudge with one foot and then sliding down off the pile of trash bags. "Let's find Rafael," he suggested, brown eyes growing anxious as he noted a set of eyes watching them from a mouse-sized crack in the wall of the building just across.

"If I know Rafy, he'll find _us_, bird," Pedro replied, sitting up and yawning.

"I guess," Nico nodded in agreement, trying to force a smile onto his beak. He began rubbing his injured wing to relieve some of the excess energy that was building as the haziness of sleep lifted fully from his mind. "About last night…" he started to say, but trailed off, looking away down the quiet alley.

Sensing an apology on the tip of his friend's tongue, the cardinal frowned. "Lost the best club in Rio last night," he began with an unusually serious tone, pausing, and then adding more quietly, "Wasn't gonna lose my best friend too."

To say that the canary was at a loss for words just then was an understatement.

_Best friend._

"Man, am I hungry!" Pedro exclaimed suddenly, rubbing his belly with both wings for emphasis. He fluttered down to the ground and started down the alley, throwing a look over his shoulder. "Comin'?"

Nico blinked. "Uh… yeah!" he replied, shaking his head to clear the daze and hurrying to catch up. There was a clear hint of a smile now gracing his features. "_Best friends_," he thought to himself, accidentally echoing the words aloud and just as soon slapping a wing over his beak.

"Que?" the cardinal asked curiously as the alley opened up to a deserted street before the two birds.

"N-nothing! Thought I saw something," the canary tried to say with a casual shrug. He shuffled his wings awkwardly and cleared his throat. "So, um, what's to eat around here?"

"Dunno, but I was thinkin' we try over there," Pedro replied smoothly, nodding his head towards a large restaurant window to their left. He strolled over to stand beneath it, narrowed his eyes with steely determination and leapt up unto the sill like an overloaded spring, flapping to keep his balance. Using his elbow, he rubbed the dust away and then pressed his face into the glass, squinting to see into the darkened restaurant.

Neither bird, to that point, had bothered noting the wildly flickering sign that advertised both the restaurant's name and, by no stretch of the imagination, its main product: _Frango__ Frito_. Fried chicken.

"What do you see?" Nico asked curiously, seeing the cardinal peel himself away from the window with a grave expression. He was still peering sideways into the restaurant, but with a decidedly sickened look in his eyes which only made the waiting canary more curious.

"Nico, man… we stick around and it's gonna be US on those plates. That's all I'm saying, a'ight?"

**RIO**

It was late morning and a large silhouette had circled above their heads several times when Nico finally quirked an eyebrow and looked upwards, shielding his eyes from the sun with one wing. He tilted his head and motioned for Pedro to look, too. "That kinda looks like—"

"RAFYYY! Aqui, aqui! We're down here, bird!"

After what seemed a moment of hesitation, the toucan descended on the two small birds. He scooped them into his dark wings before his feet had even touched the ground, practically suffocating them with relief despite their protests. "I'm so glad to see you, amigos! When I heard what happened…" he trailed off, shook his head, and simply smiled as he loosened his airtight embrace and stepped back.

"Oxy…gen…" Pedro gasped as he began to inhale with exaggerated desperation.

Nico smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way. "We're okay. Really."

Rafael looked almost skeptical, looking pointedly at his friends' charred wingtips. "You boys are really alright?" he asked, stepping back to regard them with a more careful eye. "Because I heard from Luiza that Thiago had been told by Joaquim that Beatriz was talking to Marcos and he was sure that Ester had said she saw—"

"Whoa, whoa! We get it… you know everyone," the cardinal interjected jokingly. He grinned and dodged as the toucan swatted his wing half-heartedly in the smaller bird's direction.

Looking a bit worried, Nico hopped forward. "Any news about, um, Santos?"

"Well—"

Pedro couldn't resist jumping in, exclaiming, "That guy must be halfway across Brazil by now, am I right?" He looked hopeful, eyes shining. "I mean, for real! 'Cause Nico here kicked some serious tail!"

"I'm sorry to say, but I doubt it," Rafael admitted with a shrug, looking guilty as he watched the two birds' exchange unhappy glances. With an optimistic smile, he hurriedly added, "Some birds do say he was in bad shape. Something about a missing eye?"

"Yeah…" Nico chuckled nervously, removing his bottle cap and absentmindedly rubbing the rim with one wing. He blushed in embarrassment when Pedro gave him a hard nudge to reprimand his modesty.

"You gotta _own it_, bird!" the cardinal whispered, puffing out his chest to emphasize the concept.

"But I just—"

"Ay, nem pensas, my friends! Forget Santos for now," the toucan interrupted. "Let's get you both cleaned up." With a sweeping gesture, he directed their attention to a large stone fountain that was dappled in morning light and gurgling with invitation.

The cool, clear water stung and then soothed the minor burns beneath Nico's feathers as he dipped into the topmost pool of the three tier fountain. He carefully shook his wings and tail out, watching the ash swirl away and reveal the yellow color beneath. It was good to be clean—he hadn't realized the subtle weight of the flames' residue until he climbed out to dry in the sun.

Pedro was floating on his back in the second tier down, his wings crossed comfortably beneath his head. "Aww, yeah…" he sighed happily, propelling himself in a lazy circle with one foot.

Rafael had been pacing quietly around the plaza, but seeing Nico out of his bath, he came up to perch alongside him on the stone edge. "You were on stage last night, hey? Before everything else," he remarked casually once settled.

"H-how did you know?" the canary inquired with surprise before glancing down shyly and allowing his bottle cap to fall over his eyes. "Did Pedro—"

"No, no, amigo. I just hear things," the toucan explained with a chuckle, amused by the small bird's anxiety. Pausing, he tilted his head as though he had noticed something strange and then used his wingtip to snag the bottle cap, holding it up for scrutiny while raising an eyebrow in confusion. "I meant to ask. What's this?"

"Oh, uh…" Nico started to say, reaching out for the prized object with a little more desperation than he intended to betray. Placing it back on his head, he coughed a bit and mumbled, "It's… something."

"Something?" Rafael asked incredulously, only to laugh good naturedly. After a moment, he spread his wings out as though surrendering. "If you say so, amigo!"

Several humans entered the plaza, talking and laughing loudly. Among them, a young man with a camera poised and ready in his hands; seeing the birds at the fountain, he moved closer in what he seemed to think was a stealthy manner, clearly infatuated by the unlikely trio.

"Just act natural," the toucan instructed softly as Nico began to stiffen up.

Pedro hauled himself out of the water right then and shook his feathers out, sending water spraying everywhere. He looked up at his two friends, who were less than amused by the unexpected shower, and grinned sheepishly. To the astonishment of the human onlookers, he then struck a pose.

"Oh, excelente!" the man cried happily, smashing his finger into the shutter button with renewed passion. Naturally, this only served to encourage the cardinal's ridiculous behavior, and seeing this, Rafael fought the urge to roll his eyes. After a few shots had been snapped, an older woman from the group came up, her face bright with excitement.

"Mira, mira! Un canario, si? Que lindo… _muy_ raro en Rio!" the woman whispered animatedly to the photographer, blatantly ignoring Pedro and jabbing a bony finger in Nico's direction instead.

The canary in question began sidling down the edge of the fountain, visibly eager to put some distance between himself and the humans. He found his wings itching with the need to escape, though he knew too well that he would be "grounded," so to speak, for a while yet.

Rafael looked sympathetic. "Ay, Pedro… ven aqui! _Let's go_!" he practically had to beg, observing the cardinal continuing to pose for the camera. Groaning in frustration, the toucan slapped a wing over his face. "AHORA, my friend! Dios mio."

Nico found himself laughing somewhat, entertained by his friends' antics in spite of everything. Turning on his heel, the small bird carefully hopped down from the fountain and moved into the shade of a flowering bush to wait. He breathed out with relief to see the humans starting to wander back to their group, though they continued to throw glances back at Pedro.

"Oi! Oi, humanos! Wait up! Where you goin'?!" the cardinal was yelling. He seemed ready to give chase, but Rafael had very quickly stepped on his tail to hold him in place. "Aww, man…"

**Author's Note: **_Before anyone asks, Santos will indeed return. A missing eye is hardly the end of him. Funnily enough, I stumbled upon not one but two big gray rats (one dead, one very much alive) whilst writing this chapter… ah yes, that awkward moment when your stories come to haunt you. Anyway, that's all for now, people. I will get the next chapter up as soon as possible!_


	7. Dare To Dream

**Author's Note:** _Wow, I did not expect to finish writing this as fast as I did. My wrist will regret that in the morning. Haha. It's all good, though, since the reviews for the last chapter were, in a word, amazing. Thank you so much, guys! While I may write for the pleasure of it, there's no denying how much it makes my day to see that people are enjoying my work. Now then, let me warn you that the first scene here begins with a dream which some of you may find, well, creepy. I'm juuust saying. Besides that, things are pretty light-hearted, so fear not! Thanks for reading!_

Nico's dreams that night were anything but pleasant.

_There was a constant crunch under his feet that forced him to slow his pace from a frantic run to a cautious walk. He couldn't help looking down to inspect, and in doing so, he found that he was atop a pile of hollow bones and fragile egg shells._

_With a chill in his spine, the canary reached out both wings to gather up one of the few eggs that was not beyond salvation. A heartbeat was thudding low and loud when he placed his ear up against it. Something else, too. Scratching? The chick within was ready to hatch, and its attempts to break out grew more insistent until it finally breached the very top of the shell—yet it did not emerge._

_Minutes passed and still nothing, so Nico held his breath and began to lift away the broken piece of egg like a lid. The immediate response was a violent shifting movement that almost caused the precious container to be dropped back into the pile of bones and shell. Then, nothing._

"_SCREEEEEE."_

_Nico really did drop the egg that time. A naked pink rat, blind and screeching, was emerging in place of a helpless chick. It wormed its way forward like a maggot with a gaping mouth and ugly teeth until it had clutched onto the stunned canary's foot and wrapped itself tightly around his leg, still screeching—a horrible, deafening sound._

"_Hungry, hungry! So... hungry!" the tiny, furless rodent began to whisper, opening bloodshot eyes._

_Every feather in Nico's body was screaming at him to fly. He jumped into the air and flapped hard only to go tumbling gracelessly back into the hill of horrors. When he looked at his right wing, he realized it was broken and hanging uselessly; only with this realization did the pain of the injury strike him like a knife. The only thing worse than that pain was the solemn acceptance in his gut that he was trapped._

_Slowly but deliberately, the canary turned to face his fate. He swallowed hard at the sight that awaited him. Dark gray fur was sprouting like grass over the body of the screeching pink rat and it was growing, growing, growing: morphing slowly but surely into the unmistakable form of Santos._

"_An eye… for an eye…" the large rat growled deep in his throat, taking a heavy step closer. He turned his head to expose his blind spot—the missing eye was the blackest hole imaginable, bottomless and empty._

_Squeaks, squeals, screeches, and screams began to echo in the darkness. Against this background of noise, the canary's name was called over and over like a chant: "Niiiiico, Niiiiico…" It invaded his mind, snaking right past the barrier of his wings, which were pressed firmly around his head, and cutting straight to his core. It was getting louder by the second, pulling him in: "Niiiiicoooo…"_

"_Can't hear you," the small bird whispered frantically, curling his legs up to his chest and tucking himself into one of the larger halves of an egg shell nearby. "Can't hear you…"_

_Santos was grabbing at him, trying to pull him from the safety of the shell. He opened his beak to scream, but the sound was far away. Blackness ebbed at the corners of his vision, threatening to consume him. Everything was crumbling away except… the scream… it was getting louder._

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Nico! NICO! Hey, wake up! C'mon, bird, it's just me!" Pedro was more or less yelling over his friend's screaming. He had his wings placed firmly on the canary's shoulders, but he was leaning his head back with a wincing expression over the noise.

"S-S-Santos… he—he's—" Nico choked out hoarsely when his screams had subsided. He fought against the weight holding him down with a wild-eyed look, trying to sit up to look around.

"Okay, whoaaa! Calm down there. Santos ain't anywhere he shouldn't be, got that? You were dreamin' and now you're awake," the cardinal replied carefully, raising an eyebrow in concern. He stepped back to gesture meaningfully around the moonlit hollow that was, if nothing else, sufficiently free of any murderous rodents. "See, it's cool. No rats here, am I right?!"

After a long stretch of silence and a sluggish nod of comprehension, the canary began to look fully awake—and extremely embarrassed. He just about buried his face in both wings, moaning what seemed to be numerous apologies, though it was difficult to say for sure given the muffling effect of his feathers.

"Don't even worry 'bout it, man," Pedro said with a laugh, flopping down on the edge of the nest. He paused, his expression more serious now. "Must 'ave been _some_ dream!"

"Um, yeah… I guess," Nico sighed in agreement, finally dropping his wings into his lap. He looked glum and flatly refused to make eye contact even as he ventured to ask quietly, "Woke you up, didn't I?"

"Nah."

"But it's the middle of the—"

"What? Bird can't have _needs _this time of night?"

"I'm only saying…"

They continued arguing back and forth until, at last, the conversation dissolved into sleepy laughter. Behind a haze of drifting clouds, the white moon still shone bright against the black velvet skies. Down below, only the sound of whispers and rustling from various nocturnal creatures could be heard echoing into the treetops.

Nico yawned loudly, unable to supress the sudden onset of tiredness. His eyelids felt heavy and were beginning to droop against his will. "We should prob'ly—" he began to say, then stopped as he looked over at Pedro—the cardinal had collapsed onto the floor, dead asleep.

Screams and nightmares were no more present in any birds' mind in the sleepy hollow that night.

**RIO**

"Rise and shine, amigos! It's a beautiful day!" Rafael exclaimed brightly as he poked his head into the hollow. The sunlight was streaming past him and he was smiling much too widely given the early hour of morning, though it only took a moment for the smile to melt into a look of confusion. He glanced around again, as though he might have missed something, before asking, "Ay, Pedro... where's Nico?"

"Wha?" came the mumbled reply as the cardinal sleepily pushed himself off the floor. Bleary-eyed, he turned his head to observe an inexplicably empty nest.

The toucan threw a low-browed stare at the smaller bird that plainly said he was not impressed. Shaking his head with exasperation, he pulled himself back out of the hollow and disappeared from view. When he returned all of five seconds later, there was a mysterious sparkle in his eye.

"Rafy, man, what's with the face?" Pedro questioned suspiciously, taking a few steps forward at his friend's beckoning. When he was close enough, a faint but familiar voice on the breeze caught his attention. "Hold up! Is that—"

"_Maybe if I jump or spread my wings…_"

Rafael made a "hush" gesture with his wing and began climbing into the upper branches from where the song was drifting, though the singer was obscured by several layers of leaves. He ascended the tree with considerable stealth for a bird his size until he finally arrived on a plump branch with a desirable view. Seconds later, Pedro had joined him on the perch; the cardinal held back a whistle of astonishment.

"_I know I've been wrong about these things…_"

Nico was standing alone on a thin branch close to the peak of the tree, overlooking the jungle and the city beyond. He had his back turned on his unannounced audience and clearly thought he was alone; he seemed to be testing his own voice, singing softly, "_I don't care if no one else believes…_"

The canary stopped to clear his throat and take a breath before continuing: "_I think that if you believe it then maybe we'll_—" He interrupted himself with a sigh, kicking half-heartedly at a leaf sprout.

Pedro couldn't contain himself. "That was pretty good, 'ey?!" he whispered excitedly.

"Shhhhhh!" Rafael hissed immediately, but still too late.

Hopping down a few branches with an apprehensive look on his face, Nico paused at the mysteriously rustling clump of leaves. "Pedro? That you?" the small bird asked unsurely, stopping just short of the eavesdroppers' hiding spot.

"Uh, yeah, just me!" the cardinal said as he emerged with a guilty grin. "We—I mean… uh, I wasn't_ spying_ or nothing, okay? Just out lookin' for, uh, mangoes!"

"Pedro, this isn't a mango tree," the canary responded flatly. He was silent for a while, staring directly over his friend's shoulder to where a certain orange beak of impressive size had become more than a little obvious despite the cover of green foliage. "If you guys… _heard_ anything…"

Rafael pushed the leaves aside and stepped out, fixing on a warm smile. "What we _heard_ was a bird with a song, amigo!"

"For real, man! You been holding back on us!" Pedro burst out, losing any hint of guilt as he jumped forward and jabbed a wing into the smaller bird's chest to underline his point. He grinned, brown eyes sparkling cheerfully, and leaned in to whisper with a devilish tone, "You and me… we'd make a pretty great team. Picture it! Loading up on hotwings all over Rio. Aww, yeah!"

Nico blinked in confusion and opened his beak to protest, but the cardinal wasn't listening—in fact, he had launched himself into the air to channel his excess energy into a display of spontaneous acrobatics.

"He's always had ants in his feathers," Rafael commented with a chuckle.

The canary nodded briefly. From the look of it, he was still deciding whether to blush or frown over the whole situation. With a deep breath and a glance upwards at the toucan, who seemed to be waiting on him to speak, he said almost inaudibly, "Um, why are you so sure I can sing, anyway?"

"Like I've said! Every bird has a—"

"Song, I know. But they can't all be _good_, right?"

Rafael was unable to keep from laughing over Nico's intensely suspicious expression. "You've got me there," he admitted with a wink, shrugging his wings.

"Thought so," the canary said with a resigned sigh, absentmindedly rubbing at his throat.

"Ah, not so fast, my friend! Don't throw the chicks out with the shells, _comprende_?"

Nico smiled wryly, but said nothing.

**RIO**

There was a super-sized red and white tub of popcorn, mostly full, sitting before an awe-struck canary and a smug looking cardinal. In the heat of the sun, the butter could still be heard to sizzle; the result of this was an intoxicating aroma that tempted the stomach with a promise of rich salty goodness.

"How did you even… I mean…" Nico trailed off, staring in amazement at the meal.

Pedro grinned, fluttering upwards to perch on the rim of the tub. "Ladies love a bird with secret talents," he said with an utter lack of modesty in his tone, crossing his wings and puffing his chest out.

Laughing, the canary clambered up a set of footholds in the nearest brick wall until he was high enough to reach his foot over to grab at the popcorn container. This went well until he lost his balance and, with a squeak of surprise, went toppling headfirst into the depths of the huge tub. He was faced with an ocean of white and pale yellow, and little variation to determine which direction was up or down.

When the tub was suddenly tilted, Nico came tumbling out in a dizzy heap. When his eyes refocused, he found himself lying on his back in a field of scattered popcorn; a certain toucan was staring down at him with a smirk and patient eyes.

"Enough with the junk food, boys. You'll turn into seagulls," Rafael warned jokingly, though not without shooting a meaningful look at the innocently whistling cardinal beside him.

"Sorry," the canary replied bashfully. He lifted a butter-soaked wing for inspection with some disgust.

"Esta bem, meu amigo! But wash that off before they make frango frito from you."

"Rafy, Rafy… you need to loosen up, bird," Pedro stated coolly, flipping a large piece of popcorn into his mouth and choking it down. He patted his stomach contentedly, then glanced disdainfully at the small pile of ripe, colorful fruit that the toucan had left to gather from the market a few streets over.

"Ay, that so? Let me tell you something—"

Nico wandered off down the sidewalk, leaving his two friends to the amusement of their so-called argument. Around the corner, he found himself standing outside a flower shop that was closed for the lunch hour; there was a purple leash tied to a door handle with no dog in sight. Beside it, beneath the shade of an overhang, a silver bowl engraved with the name "Chacha" sparkled with clean water.

The canary hesitantly moved to the edge of the bowl. He checked repeatedly in both directions, as though about to do something terrible, before experimentally dipping a toe. It was warm. Wasting no time, the small bird splashed fully into the makeshift bath.

"Aqui, aqui! He's over here!" a familiar voice called out some minutes later.

Pedro and Rafael had arrived, only to stop abruptly in their tracks a couple feet away. They exchanged glances over the scene before them, neither sure whether Nico was being kissed or eaten by "Chacha"—the old, scruffy brown dog had returned with her owner to find a small bird still bathing in her water bowl, and she had promptly taken quite a liking to her guest.

"S-stop it!" the canary was laughing, trying in vain to shield himself from the sloppy wet tongue that was tickling him against his will and making a complete mess of his feathers.

A couple of humans walking past were inevitably pulled towards the dog by their young children, who rushed to pet the "puppy" with squeals of delight. They took little notice of Nico as he seized the opportunity and made an escape just as quickly as his legs would carry him.

"Looking good, bird," Pedro smirked, raising an eyebrow at the cowlick on his friend's head.

The canary hastily reached up to pat his feathers down. Something was missing. He froze, his brain suddenly registering the now unfamiliar nakedness. "My bottle cap!" he exclaimed, wide-eyed.

"What, you mean this?" the cardinal asked mischievously, revealing the sacred item from behind his back and presenting it with a deep bow. "Found it in the popcorn!"

Nico's face lit up with happiness and he launched himself forward, wrapping his wings (far as they would go) around Pedro's stomach in a spontaneous embrace. This had effectively stunned the heavyset bird, who now looked utterly bewildered by the unprecedented display of sincere gratitude.

It wasn't long before a light bulb seemed to go off over the canary's head and he just about jumped several inches back. He quickly launched into a rambling apology, explaining how shameful it was to not have realized the bottle cap was missing sooner, and proceeding to swear on his grandmother's nest that he wouldn't lose it again.

Pedro tapped the smaller bird's beak with his wingtip to silence him. "A'ight, chill! S'okay! We're good."

"Sorr—"

"Ay, nao! Enough with the apologizing, man."

Nico scuffed at the sidewalk, staring down awkwardly at his feet until he felt the gentle weight of the bottle cap being placed onto his head. He blinked and then offered a grateful smile, patting the rim with his wing. "Obrigado…"

"Don't mention it. _Really_," the cardinal responded with a laugh, giving his friend a nudge. He paused, looked around and scratched his chin with confusion. "Where'd Rafy go now?"

"_How my heart is singing, I see Rio de Janeiro…_"

The two birds looked up at the sound of the voice to see Rafael sitting on a ledge above the flower shop, his gaze far away as he looked out towards the glimmering ocean on the horizon. He was fully absorbed in his song, wings held out and swaying to a tune only he could hear.

"_My longing, lonely days are ending_," the toucan sang out shamelessly, beginning to slowly tap one foot. "_Rio, my love, there by the sea! Rio, my love, waiting for me!_"

"Wow," Nico breathed out appreciatively, seeming impressed. "He can really sing, huh?"

"Who, Rafy? 'Course he can sing, bird," Pedro replied as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. A wide smile broke across his beak and he declared loudly, "That's the King of Carnaval up there!"

The canary looked thoughtful. "Carnaval? Like the circus?"

"_See the cable cars that sway above the bay of Guanabara…_"

"What! Are you _serious_ right now?" the cardinal inquired with clear disbelief, beak gaping open. After a moment, he slapped a wing against his face. "Nico, Nico… still so much to learn."

"_Tiny sailboats far below dance the samba as they go_." Rafael was still going strong, now circling above the street and enjoying the afternoon sun on his feathers. He had attracted a small audience of birds who, not too surprisingly, recognized him at a glance. "_Shining Rio, there you lie! City of sun, of sea and sky…_"

**Author's Note:** _The snippet of a song that Nico sang in this chapter was "Tonight," which is technically by Johnny Angel and Bruno Mars, but I sampled only the latter singer's part in it. Let's pretend, for the purpose of this story, that the rest of the song doesn't exist. Moving on! Rafael was singing Tony Bennett's version of "Samba Do Aviao." What else? It's late and I'm tired… I haven't proofread, thus I apologize for any typos. Next chapter out ASAP, etc, etc. That's all for now. Boa __noite__/good night!_


	8. Bad Eye Blind

**Author's Note:** _I stared at a blank document at least an hour before inspiration for this chapter arrived with a vengeance. 'Twas a domino effect after that… one scene just kept leading to another. It's the first time I've ever written a full chapter in one day! I certainly hadn't planned for how this chapter starts (actually, I've been writing this whole story impromptu style, so I haven't planned for much of anything), buuuut I really like the direction it all took. Thank you as always to my dear reviewers (and readers too)! Please enjoy and brace yourself for a, ahem, stormy chapter. Haha. I'll shut up now… ;)_

A bitter wind—far too cold for a summer's day—was stirring the trees in the jungle. Dark clouds had appeared on the horizon without much warning; by now, they had completely blacked out the sun. All this plus the grumbling thunder and white lightning overhead was more than enough to empty the city streets. It was, therefore, a rather curious time for a cardinal and a canary to be walking towards the fruit market (which had, in any event, been closed early in anticipation of the weather).

"I don't know about this," Nico said anxiously, glancing up at the angry skies. "We could have at least told Rafael we were coming."

"What, after walkin' all this way?" Pedro scoffed. He waved his wing dismissively and added, "It's cool, bird. We'll be outta here before the rain even falls."

A single fat drop slapped the canary in the face not even seconds later and he shot his friend a look that said, "You were saying?" Sighing loudly and adjusting the bottle cap on his head, he walked without further complaint, yet not without a mildly begrudged expression. Try as he might, he couldn't shake a strange feeling in his gut that was making his quills stand on end.

The cardinal let out a low whistle as the two birds turned the block into the fruit market and found themselves staring down the long narrow alley. At the end, past the barren and covered vendor's stalls, there was a heap of blackened rubble and ash where the samba club had once stood beneath an assembly of crates and tarps; humans had criss-crossed the damage with yellow tape.

Nico reached up and pulled the bottle cap to his chest in reverence, feeling a pang of regret that he had spent so little time in the club before it had been destroyed. For a while, this was enough to overpower his sense of uneasiness.

Pedro had bowed his head reverently as he approached the yellow tape. "Santo de samba," he muttered to himself, looking uncharacteristically solemn toeing at a burnt splinter of wood.

"You alright?" the canary asked quietly, moving to place a sympathetic wing on his friend's shoulder.

"I'll bounce back. I just had to see it again… like it's not real otherwise, you know?"

Without waiting for any response, the cardinal fluttered up towards the top of the black mound and began scraping at the ruins, his brow set with an intense stare that suggested he was looking for something. This behavior continued uninterrupted for a few minutes, at least, before he fell onto his bottom and simply frowned. "Dumb rats looted everything," he muttered.

Nico was quiet, hovering nearby but refusing to cross into the taped area. He was visibly distracted—his gaze traveled constantly upwards and then all around. Why couldn't he shake the feeling that they were being watched? There wasn't a soul in sight…

"—even listening, huh?"

"W-what?" the canary stuttered, realizing he had zoned out.

Pedro was standing inches away, giving him a strange look. "Forget it. Let's hit the pavement," he said coolly, already heading for the street.

With one last wary look over his shoulder, Nico hurried after his departing friend. His heart jumped when lightning crackled almost directly overhead, signaling the start of a miserable downpour. In this weather, they would never make it back to the hollow on foot—even flying, it was a long shot unless you were keen on being barbequed.

The cardinal was pushing through the rain with determined strides. Even from the back, it was obvious from his stiff shoulders and rigidly held wings that he was simply having "one of those days."

"Uh, hey… Pedro?" the canary tried cautiously, gritting his beak like he were handling broken glass.

No answer.

"Maybe we should stop somewhere?"

It wasn't _quite_ what Nico had in mind when he said it, but Pedro did stop—so abruptly that the small bird crashed full on into his feathered back with a chirp of surprise. He quickly spread his wings to catch his balance and then hopped back a couple inches, murmuring an apology.

"Get over it—that's what you're thinking, 'ey? It was just a club," the cardinal said suddenly, not turning around or moving much at all.

Looking bewildered, the canary started to say, "I didn't—"

"Nah, you don't gotta say it," Pedro interrupted, crossing his wings and turning around. His brown eyes were swimming with a rare display of anger; the emotion was so consuming that he cared very little how misdirected it might be. With a huff, he curled his toes into the cracks of the road and cast a glare off the side, as though some enemy stood there that only he could see.

Nico was stunned into silence by his normally cheerful and optimistic friend's behavior. He took a deep breath, hesitated a moment, and said as gently as possible, "It's not just you, Pedro. The club was important… to a lot of birds."

The cardinal rounded on him over this statement. "Don't know what you'd know 'bout that!" he snapped without even thinking. "Too domesticated for samba, ain't you?"

"Big word for your vocabulary," the canary practically growled, surprising even himself. His feathers felt electrified and his chest was heaving with frustration, but his eyes were dark with hurt. The rainfall dripping down his cheeks only served to emphasize the melancholy etched into his every feature.

Pedro stared at him for a long while, a flash of guilt passing over his face. It was hastily masked by defensive nonchalance as he turned away and muttered, "Whatever. I'm out."

Nico didn't stick around to watch as his best friend leapt into the air, spread his wings, and ascended above the rooftops. Instead, he turned his thoughts toward survival—which, at the moment, meant finding shelter from the pounding rain. He couldn't see more than a couple feet in front of him, but it was enough to spot a large crack in the bricks of a bakery. The perfect size for a small bird. Then again, also the perfect size for a plump mouse. It was a risk he had to take, but he gulped all the same.

It was dark inside. Dry, too. Warmth was a little more of a luxury, so the canary found himself fluffing his feathers against the cold. He stayed close to the crack, just in case a quick escape became necessary. There was no telling what lurked behind him in the shadows. Exploring was more of a gamble than he was up for at the moment.

Thunder shook the building and Nico jumped, pulling himself closer to the wall and sighing heavily. This was not at all how Pedro and himself had planned for the day to turn out. _Pedro_… the name made him frown, not from anger but remorse. The cardinal had woken up in less of a sunny mood than usual, sure, but still, he had begged and pleaded to return to the sight of the former club and he simply refused to go alone. He was mourning the club—that was obvious; visiting was supposed to be his way of working past the initial stage of denying it was gone. _That went well_, the canary thought bitterly.

**RIO**

Rafael was a force to be reckoned with. "Are you a _boboca_?! He's your best amigo, Pedro!"

The cardinal glowered at his feet, shifting awkwardly. "It just kinda… happened," he mumbled, flushing pink beneath his feathers under the weight of a judgemental stare. "I went back for him, but he was gone, a'ight?"

"No, it is definitely _not_ _a'ight_! He can't even fly!" the toucan exclaimed loudly, throwing up his wings in exasperation and beginning to pace the floor of his hollow. "Santos is still out there…"

At this, Pedro glanced up, his expression grim with thoughts of the rat. "Rafy, man, you don't think—" he began, then stopped himself. His gaze drifted out towards the jungle, over which the storm was now fully raging. There wasn't so much as a hummingbird in the formidable sky.

"Ay, tonto," Rafael was muttering to himself, rubbing his forehead with one wingtip. "Eva's going to _kill_ me."

"Daddy, daddy! We're scared," a toucan chick whined from amidst a quivering hill of black feathers and orange beaks. Their brown eyes were wide as saucers, reflecting the bright flashes of lightning that lit up the nest at the back of the hollow.

"_I'm_ not scared," a voice piped up as one of the older chicks shoved her way out of the nest. She stood smugly apart from her siblings, wings placed on her hips, until thunder sent a shudder up the tree. With a high-pitched squeak of fright, she dove back into the pile of black feathers and disappeared.

Pedro hopped to the threshold and looked back at Rafael. "It's cool if you stay. You got your own stuff."

"No way, amigo. I'm coming too," the toucan replied immediately. Looking over at his brood, he offered a comforting smile and said brightly, "Your Mama will be back real soon! Tell her Daddy had to leave with Tio Pedro. Alright, kids?!"

The toucan chicks exchanged a few glances with each other before a few of them began to nod. None seemed _particularly _comforted in their fears by the thought of Eva returning to the hollow.

Flying above the treetops seemed like suicide, so Rafael dove into the thick of the jungle, weaving between the tree trunks with Pedro hot on his tail. They navigated in the general direction of the city at breakneck speed, using the howling wind's direction to their advantage.

When the two birds came hurtling out of the tree line, they stopped just short of smacking into the windows of a large building and pulled up until they were gliding over the rooftops. After a few minutes of flight, they were nearing the fruit market—it would be the best possible place to branch out from. Rain or shine, they were prepared to search for Nico in every nook and cranny nearby; after all, how far could a flightless bird possibly get?

They dropped into the streets just a block or two away from the fruit market and began to look around. Rafael was about to open his beak to inquire where precisely Nico had last been seen in the area, but Pedro held up his wing and shushed him before he could even get a syllable in.

"_Ooh, oh, ohh…_"

"Whoa, whoa! Rafy, hold up! You hear that too, right?" the cardinal whispered almost excitedly, hopping left and then right as though he wasn't sure which way the sound was coming from.

The toucan slowly nodded, beginning to pick up on a voice that was muffled by the rain beating against the pavement. He cupped his wing around one ear and listened intently until the words became comprehensible to him: "—_even though it's been your mistake…_" He broke into a broad smile, pointing with his foot in the direction the song seemed to be coming from.

"_L-listen to your heart and it w-won't lead you the wrong way…_"

Pedro couldn't help frowning as the distance between themselves and the singer started to shrink. He could sense something more than passion in the song; there was absolute fear. If that was really Nico singing, he almost wished it weren't. Guilt was beginning to gnaw at his stomach.

"_F-feels like your hope is g-gone… at least you w-wrote a song…_"

"Over there," Rafael said finally, nodding with his beak as a bakery shop came into view. Standing at a safe distance, he studied it with a frown until the large crack in the wall caught his attention. "Ah, Nico must be inside."

"No offense, bird, but you ain't ever gettin' in that way," the cardinal remarked, looking nervous.

"_Yes, you did, baby… at least you wrote a song…_"

Refraining from the urge to point out that Pedro wasn't so small himself, the toucan instead spread his wings in a shrug and said casually, "But there's a broken window, 'ey?"

"What broke—" the cardinal started to say, brow furrowed with confusion. He blinked with realization and grinned mischievously. "Ooh… _that _window!"

**RIO**

"_Yeah, yeah… yeah…_"

"Dinner and a show? Lucky me," Santos sneered, finally emerging from the shadows. He kept the right side of his face obscured.

Nico had sensed the rat's presence behind him well before now. Instinct or something like it had urged him to sing, and he had done just that—at least until his nerves had driven his creativity into a dead end. Knowing he had bought all the time he could, the canary slowly turned on his heel to face his nightmare eye to eye.

"All alone," the large rat said with a sing-song tone. He had propped himself up on his hind legs and was stroking his pink tail like a pet snake, humming thoughtfully and saying so little, it was almost more disturbing than to hear his gluttonous taunting.

"Y-you were watching, right? Back at the club?" the canary asked after a while, as much for curiosity as to break the deafening silence.

Santos pawed irritably at his whiskers, letting his tail fall back to the floor. "Watching, yes…" he replied with a strange, hollow laugh. "It's more complicated with one eye. Isn't that funny?"

Nico bit back an apology, mentally berating himself for even having such an absurd thought. Thinking himself inconspicuous, he began reaching a wing upwards to grab his bottle cap—it couldn't hurt to be prepared with a mentally unstable rodent standing just a couple feet away.

"Uh-uh, we'll have none of that," the rat said immediately, his brow furrowing until the small bird froze in place. With a dark, lopsided smile, he added, "Wouldn't want to poke someone's eye out, would we? Oh, _wait_…"

The canary could feel his heart rate increasing with every second that this stand-off continued. Ironically enough, he was starting to feel like a mouse in the clutches of a bored cat. Death? That was inevitable. It was being toyed with like this that he couldn't stand.

"Polly's such a pretty bird," Santos whispered maniacally, his stare quite suddenly unfocused and far away. "She always gets the crackers! But not me, I can't sing…"

Would there be time to get away? Could a bird outpace a rat? Nico found these questions to be running a marathon through his mind. He glanced continually at the crack that marked an escape to the street, waiting and hoping for a chance to use it.

"You're a pretty bird too, aren't you?" the rat inquired with a tilted head, inching forward ever so slowly. He had an intense look in his good eye. "Can YOU sing?"

"N-no," the canary responded weakly, shaking his head and pressing himself against the wall.

"_Liar_! LIAR!" Santos snarled with unprecedented fury, grabbing his head with both paws as though the lie had overloaded his brain. His tail lashed out like a whip, smacking the ground. "Liar, liar, liar," he continued to moan, rocking himself back and forth.

Nico gulped, desperately wishing he wasn't alone. Turning his back on a lunatic might be suicidal, but there was no choice: he had to at least TRY to escape while the rat was distracted by his own mania.

Alas, no such luck.

If the small bird had ever wondered how quickly a rat could move, that question was answered at the most inconvenient time. He was only halfway through the crack when a powerful set of jaws locked around his left leg and yanked him back into the bakery with force enough to make his head spin. He was sent sprawling away from the wall, too dazed to stop his bottle cap from rolling away; his eyes soon refocused on a perfectly unhappy vision.

An irate Santos was blocking the exit, silhouetted by the gloomy gray light. "_That_ was rude," he chided, crossing his paws in disapproval. There was a pause. His nose twitched with interest as blood began trickling from the bite mark on Nico's leg, causing the canary to recoil it in defense. "Mmh…"

When the rat dropped to all fours and moved closer, the right side of his face was finally revealed. An angry red scar marked the place over his eye—or where it used to be—but mercifully unlike the other night's dream of a gaping black hole existing there, the lid was simply squeezed shut. Ugly, to be sure, but not altogether so terrifying as it could be.

"It's not nice to stare, birdie. Didn't your mother ever teach you that?"

Nico looked away, though he could still see Santos leaning forward in his peripheral vision. He was close enough that his warm, awful breath invaded the canary's lungs, making him cough violently. When he tried to back away, the rat smiled and stepped down firmly on his tail feathers.

The small bird struggled valiantly to free himself, but he was no match for his opponent's weight. With the last of his effort, he groped around the floor in search of his bottle cap, but there was little purpose—it was nowhere near.

Santos rubbed his paws together in anticipation, watching Nico as he began to tire. "Well, well… I've certainly worked up an appetite," he drawled, reaching down and grabbing a clump of the canary's chest feathers to bring him up to eye level. Licking his lips, he said lowly, "By the way… this may hurt. _A lot_."

"Let 'im go or it's for sure gonna hurt, rato."

"P-Pedro?" Nico asked in disbelief, straining his neck to look behind him.

"If it isn't your fat friend," Santos observed with an undertone of pleasure, not looking the least bit fazed. He tightened his grip on the small bird's chest and offered a toothy grin in the cardinal's direction. "Lean meat's well enough, but _you_…"

"What? You wanna piece of this?" Pedro called out loudly, curling his wing into a fist and banging his chest a few times. "Come and get it!"

**Author's Note:** _Well, I couldn't tell you at the beginning because that would have ruined it, but Nico's song was actually "Stressin" by none other than Jamie Foxx! Might have to slap you if you don't see the significance there. Haha. No, but seriously. Anyways! I'm not gonna lie, I haven't even heard the freaking song because I can't find it anywhere (cookies for anyone who has better luck with that), but I felt the lyrics were too perfect to pass up. By the way, for those wondering, Nico will indeed be giving a PROPER performance one day. We're getting closer to that moment. First, though, I need to write him up a new samba stage! That said, next chapter coming soon. Thanks for reading! (P.S. If there was ever any doubt, yes, Santos is completely insane. It's my favorite thing about him. Due to the darker elements he's added to Heartsong though, I'm moving the rating from K+ to T just to be safe.)_


	9. Out Of Shadows

**Author's Note:** _No music in this chapter, but no worries, the samba club won't stay a pile of ashes forever. In the meantime, there's still some unfinished business with Santos from the last chapter! So I won't keep your eyes away from that too long. Thank you kindly to all my reviewers! Read on, good people. ;)_

Nico, feeling not unlike a chicken about to be plucked clean, was gritting his beak against the pain of his feathers seeming like they were about to be ripped out of his chest. That was until he was dropped unceremoniously to the ground. He realized that Santos was no longer paying him much attention, but instead creeping towards his best friend—whom, admittedly, he still harbored mixed feelings towards.

"Yeah, that's right. Just step this way," Pedro said daringly, fixing the rat with a narrowed stare.

The canary wanted to ask, gratefulness aside, how intelligent it was to confront a murderous rodent without any apparent plan, but his mind soon turned to other concerns. Someone or something had just melted out of the shadows behind him and covered his beak to muffle his cry of surprise. Panic rose in his chest as he felt himself being dragged slowly back into the darkness; he realized with a sinking feeling that the cardinal wasn't even looking his way. What if—

"Shhhh! Calm down, amigo," came a harsh, familiar whisper.

Through a mouthful of black feathers, Nico asked hopefully, "R-Rufahel?"

With a nod, the toucan released his grasp and smiled warmly in the almost nonexistent light, but said nothing further. Instead, he placed a wing on the smaller bird's shoulder and prepared to guide him deeper into the shadows, scarcely expecting to meet with resistance.

"Wait, my bottle cap," the canary said softly, casting a pained glance over his shoulder. He quickly shrugged himself away from the wing that moved to stop him and hurried back to search for it.

Pedro had become engaged in a dance of death, trying hard to stay on Santos's blind side if only to frustrate him and buy time. A brief distraction from the flash of yellow that passed nearby was all the rat needed, though, and he quickly whipped his long naked tail into the bird's legs, causing him to stumble.

"Heh. 'Suuup, rato?" the cardinal said with a nervous grin as the large rat loomed over him, fire burning in his eyes. Every muscle and bone in his body was tense with fright; he knew too well how vulnerable he had become.

Santos bared his dirty yellow teeth in a snarl. "Enough games."

"Who's playing?" Nico said out of nowhere, tossing his bottle cap like a frisbee. The rough-edged metal smacked hard into the back of the rat's skull causing him to whirl around and glare dangerously.

"That old trick again? You're starting to bore me," Santos uttered coldly, rearing up to his full height.

The canary started forward and then stopped, watching sadly as the rat stamped down on his bottle cap (which had clattered to the floor at his paws). He was frozen, eyes fixed on the precious item even knowing that the enemy was beginning to stalk in his direction with a lethal intent in his black stare.

"Get outta here already, bird!" Pedro yelled at his friend, slamming his shoulder into Santos's spine and then jumping into the air to hover just out of reach.

Nico hesitated, but turned obediently towards the shadows—until a squawk made him spin right back around. He gasped at the scene that was playing out in front of him. The cardinal had apparently misjudged how high a large rat could jump and he was now desperately flapping his wings to stay airborne despite the heavy rodent that was clinging to his tail feathers like a rabid dog.

Santos was dripping with confidence. "Gotcha, birdie…"

"Yeah? How 'bout a wild card?" the cardinal shot back through a gritted beak. He inhaled deeply and called out with every ounce of vocal power he possessed, "Raaaaffffyyyy!"

Rafael came rocketing out of the darkness on cue, bowling into Santos and pinning him to the wall at the end of his massive orange beak. Though his opponent struggled violently against him, he could do little damage from his current position. He knew this well and it only seemed to make him more furious.

"Naughty bird! Awful… _horrid_…"

There was a rare, angry intensity in the toucan's eyes as he shoved his weight against the rat's stomach, waiting until his breathing quickened and his good eye rolled around violently. He stepped back, allowing the gray furred body to crumple into an ugly heap.

"So… hungry…" Santos wheezed out, his shaking paws reaching forward as if to grab food.

Pedro slapped his wing against his face. "That all you think about, man?!"

In spite of everything, Nico chuckled a bit at the irony in the cardinal's exasperation. He had walked over to where his bottle cap lay dented but otherwise intact. Now, sighing softly, he leaned down and scooped it gingerly into his wings.

Meanwhile, Santos was halfway to blacking out when the tip of Rafael's beak connected with his skull for good measure. It would be a while before his consciousness resurfaced—long enough, at least.

Nico broke the ensuing quiet. "Is it… over?" he asked, looking around for some affirmation.

"For now," the toucan offered in reply, flashing only a half-smile.

There was silence again, except for the storm which could still be heard continuing in force outside the bakery. Now that things were settled and the three birds were, more or less, out of harm's way, Pedro found himself looking at his feet. He was pointedly avoiding any eye contact with his best friend. What could he possibly say after almost letting the canary become rat food over some dumb argument?

Rafael cleared his throat. "You two ever gonna talk about it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh, yeah," the cardinal mumbled, scratching his head with one wing and taking a deep breath. "Listen, man…"

"No, wait," Nico interrupted, fiddling with the dent in his bottle cap. His brown eyes were downcast as he spoke. "I'm sorry. Whatever I said, I didn't mean it." He paused. "And it's my fault…"

Pedro slowly looked up, a confused expression on his face as the canary continued speaking.

"The club burned down because—"

"Uh, because _Santos _crashed the party," the cardinal corrected, predicting that his friend had been just words away from condemning _himself_ instead. He looked very serious, even crossing his wings, and continued with, "No one blames you, a'ight? 'Specially me. There ain't a bird alive who'd say otherwise."

Nico blinked a bit, clearly surprised. Shuffling awkwardly where he stood, he said almost too softly to be heard, "But I thought, um…"

"Look, it's been rough losin' the club and all," Pedro said with a regretful look, rubbing his shoulder with one wing. "What happened today though, uh… you know, I just kinda woke up on the wrong side of the nest or somethin'. But are we still cool?"

"Considering you just saved my tail?" the canary replied, breaking into a small smile.

"_Again_," the cardinal said through an exaggerated cough.

"Yeah, yeah…"

**RIO**

Pedro yanked hard on the string that dangled from a light bulb overhead, revealing that the three birds had entered into a storage room in the back of the bakery. The cardinal looked pensive as he hovered in place above the stacks of flour and other boxed ingredients, but it was a while before anyone dared to say the inevitable.

"We're lost, right?" Nico inquired plainly, casting an accusing glance between his friends, who had claimed they could backtrack their way to the broken window from which they had entered.

Rafael's laugh was somewhat strained. "Ay, well… I wouldn't say _that_."

"Nah, he's right, bird. We're lost," Pedro stated with a helpless shrug, now resting atop a flour bag.

The toucan looked positively deflated, having no further objections to the reality of the situation. He hung his head until his beak touched the floor and allowed his wings to droop at his sides. After a few seconds though, he brightened up and exclaimed, "I've got it!"

"Got what, Rafy?" the cardinal asked boredly, leaning his head on one wing.

Nico hopped forward with a hopeful gleam in his eyes. "You remembered the way out?"

"Ah, nao _exatamente_…"

Pedro raised an eyebrow, looking suspicious. "Not exactly, 'ey?" He grinned in the canary's direction and whispered loudly, "Betcha my own nest this involves breakin' more windows."

"That… wasn't my _entire_ plan," Rafael muttered awkwardly, once again deflating.

"Uh-huh."

The light bulb suddenly made a crackling sound before fizzling out, plunging the storage room into near darkness. Collective groans were uttered as everyone began to shuffle around, drawn by instinct to a dim but constant light source—an open door that led to a portion of the bakery they had yet to explore.

It was the main kitchen that opened up before them. The walls boasted a fairly extensive amount of counters and shiny appliances that were littered with baking utensils and half-empty containers spilling out ingredients. Several mouse tracks could be seen in the flour dust and, well, to say that the place was a health code violation waiting to happen would be an understatement. Despite this, the lingering scent of baked bread that permeated the air was quite appealing to the senses of hungry birds.

Nico walked along the tiles, gazing at his surroundings with interest, while Pedro and Rafael took to the air and soared in tight circles around the kitchen island. Soon enough, though, the cardinal spotted a basket of dinner rolls and promptly crash landed onto a countertop in his rush to get at them. In all fairness, his stomach could be heard growling from half a room away.

The toucan alighted more gracefully, but quickly retracted one of his feet for inspection. "Ack!" he complained, muttering something about spilled chocolate while attempting to shake out a squishy brown mess from between his toes.

Pedro almost choked on a piece of bread trying not to laugh. "Yo, Rafy… that ain't chocolate, man. Just sayin'," he remarked once he had swallowed, failing miserably to hide a grin.

"Uh, you guys…?" Nico piped up from somewhere down below, sounding a little concerned.

Turning away from the basket of dinner rolls, the cardinal hopped to the edge of the counter and looked around until he spotted the canary standing around nearby with an uncomfortable expression. Raising an eyebrow, as he could see nothing wrong at a glance, he called to him, "What's up, bird?"

"I think, um—well, I think I stepped on… something."

"Brown? Squishy? Looks like chocolate?" Pedro snorted in reply, smirking over his shoulder at Rafael.

"N-no… I don't know. I'm stuck."

The cardinal glided down for a better look and found that his friend's statement was no exaggeration. A single window placed over the sink was the only source of light in the room which made the glue traps booby-trapping the kitchen floor difficult to notice. Judging by the clumps of gray and brown fur mixed with the sticky substance, the bakers had deemed these traps reusable—unsanitary but advantageous right then since the glue was made at least slightly less sticky by overuse.

"Okay, okay! Let's not panic or nothin'! We got this, a'ight? Just, uh… try pullin' your foot out."

Nico yanked his right foot and then his left; neither separated more than a fly's width from the trap. "No good," he admitted miserably, burning with embarrassment beneath his feathers.

Pedro hopped over and wrapped his wings around the smaller bird's waist. Digging his heels into the floor tile for traction, he tugged violently against the stubborn glue—until his grip slipped and he stumbled backwards with a squawk.

Rafael appeared at the counter's edge with a frown. "Ay, you two just can't stay out of trouble…"

**RIO**

It was twilight when the three birds emerged from the bakery, and the storm from earlier had run its course, leaving the darkening sky above more or less clear. High over Rio, the moon shone bright and cast an obscured reflection in the puddles, which rippled with the chilling breeze that was winding its way through the city. The air was crisper than usual for the time of year.

"Not lovin' this weather," Pedro grumbled after a while, pulling his legs closer as he soared sideways into the narrow space between two buildings.

"Que? It's a beautiful night! You should embrace it," Rafael called cheerfully from up ahead, optimistic as ever. He glanced over his shoulder at the canary who sat huddled in the crook of his back. "How are you holding up, Nico?"

"I—ah—_achoo_!"

The small bird sniffled and held a wing over his beak to stop another sneeze. He was shivering violently and his feathers were fluffed to the extent that he vaguely resembled a yellow pompom.

Pedro and Rafael exchanged worried glances as they entered a parallel flight path.

"You ain't lookin' so good, bird," the cardinal commented with a grim expression, flapping harder as an unexpectedly strong gust of wind whistled through his quills.

Nico's beak was chattering. "N-no, I'm f-f-fine!" he protested stubbornly. "It's j-just a bit… c-c-cold."

Rolling his eyes, the toucan dropped into a dive to avoid a flock of scarlet macaws that were passing by overhead. He was still flying vertically when he heard the canary sneeze and almost instantly get sent tumbling into a free fall. "Ay caramba," he sighed, putting on speed and swooping low enough to catch the dizzy ball of yellow feathers in mid-air.

They entered the thick of the jungle a few minutes later. Dense foliage cut the wind out here and the upper canopies had trapped a little warmth, but it was darker than ever flying near to the ground. Pedro was in the lead, navigating to his hollow on blind faith and a bit of luck.

"Aww, not cool," the cardinal complained when he at last arrived in the interior of his tree. By aid of a moonbeam, he was staring at a picture of havoc that could have only been wreaked by the afternoon storm. Wet leaves were plastered to the wooden walls while twigs carpeted the floor in a chaotic pattern; nothing resembled the nests that had been there just that morning.

Rafael swept in and clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Redecorating?"

Shooting him a dry look, Pedro began to peel a piece of bedding from the ceiling. It was sopping wet, so he held it away from him in disgust and tossed it aside before moving to examine another leaf. This process was repeated several times before he collapsed in defeat.

Nico clambered to the floor and blinked sleepily at the littered hollow. "Here, lemme help," he mumbled, bending over to collect a broken twig and nearly falling over in the process.

The toucan braced the smaller bird with his wing, holding him steady as he swayed on his feet. He cleared his throat and then broke into a smile. "Why don't you boys stay with Eva and I for the night?" he suggested with an undertone that implied he was leaving them no choice.

Pedro grimaced, thoughts of feather-eating chicks flooding his mind. "You sure, man?" he said with a nervous laugh. "Like, we don't wanna _impose_. Right, Nico?"

"Um, yeah," the canary agreed, nodding uncertainly. He paused and then said quickly, "I—I mean… uh, no?"

"There you have it, Rafy! Yeah, s'all good here! See you later, a'ight?" the cardinal jabbered as he attempted to hustle the larger bird back to the threshold. He pushed and shoved, but neither his weight nor his words were having much of any effect.

Rafael stood his ground. "Eva won't mind at all," he said cheerfully, fully prepared to swallow that lie.

"But, for real—"

"_Achoo_!"

Tuning out his friend's protests, the toucan redirected his attention to Nico, who was standing off to the side and hugging himself against the cool night air. He placed the back of his wing against the smaller bird's forehead before he could so much as think to object and shortly after withdrew it with a worried frown. "You're burning up, amigo," he announced decisively.

The canary avoided eye contact, uttering lowly in reply, "It's nothing."

"Nada, 'ey? Hmph." Pensively stroking the underside of his beak, Rafael said more to himself than anyone else, "Probably just a cold, but…"

"But?!" Pedro burst out, hopping forward with an apprehensive expression. "What's the 'but,' bird?"

"Could be rat fever," the toucan admitted with a quick shrug. He stared pointedly at Nico now, eyes searching as he added, "But that would mean Santos had bitten you." There was a long pause. "Did he?"

"Um, no," the canary replied quickly, having almost forgotten the bite mark on his left leg. The injury, now scabbed over, was shallow enough that it had gone unnoticed in the abundant chaos and lacking light. With an innocent half-smile, he crossed his legs to conceal the wound.

Rafael's face—brows raised, eyelids down, beak set in a line—practically said for itself, "And just who do you think you're fooling here?" With an air of practiced intimidation, he extended a wing and said calmly, "Show me your leg."

Nico hesitated and then reluctantly complied, exposing his injury for the toucan's scrutiny.

"Ain't rat fever just an old hen's tale?" Pedro finally ventured to ask with a hopeful tone. He began chewing his own wing feathers when Rafael threw him a blank stare. Shifting awkwardly, the cardinal further inquired, "Wait, was that, like, a yes? Or…"

"Frankly, my friend?" the toucan said with a sigh, looking up from his examination of the canary's leg. "Rat fever is no hen's tale."

**Author's Note:** _Originally, I thought Santos would be dead by now. But you know how characters have a mind of their own? Yeah, well, he demands more page time. And what's this?! Rat fever? Before anyone gets confused, I kinda sorta invented that illness BUT not exactly. Rat bite fever is a thing (you can Google it). I'm just twisting it into "rat fever" for my own evil purposes. We'll see where that goes NEXT chapter. Which will come soon. At the expense of my wrists. Because I can't stop writing. That's okay though because you guys are awesome. Thanks as always!_


	10. Dead End Daze

**Author's Note:** _Behold the ten chapter mark! I'm quite pleased. Heartsong is now 70 pages in my word processor. Believe me, that's a rare accomplishment when you have tendinitis. Thank you everyone for the reviews! Let me just brief you real quick on where we're at with the plot here. This chapter starts out slow, but it sets the stage for a couple very important things. I'm starting school in exactly a week, mind you, so I'll be wrapping things up within the next few chapters and this chapter is what will allow me to do that. Finally! Pay close attention as you read… something below is not what it seems. There are several clues, a few more obvious than others, so let me know if you figure it out by the end. ;)_

Nico stirred into consciousness on account of two things: the first, a tickling sensation produced by the feathers of toucan chick's against his feet, and the second, an argument that was drifting in from outside the hollow. He pulled himself up and rubbed his eyes, letting his senses filter past the sleepy haze; his head felt heavier than normal, the skin beneath his feathers was clammy, and he felt desperately thirsty which inspired a cough, but all in all, he wasn't exactly on death's door.

Stretching out his wings—which seemed to grow stiffer every day from lack of use—the canary took a careful step over the chicks around him. He maneuvered around Pedro, who was snoring loudly in the middle of the nest, and began walking toward the sunlight. As he approached, the argument that had partially woken him grew louder.

"Mamita, please, they're not eggs anymore…"

Eva was staring at her husband with crossed wings and narrowed eyes, radiating fury from every inch of her being. "They're your children, Rafael!"

The male toucan was staring shamefully at his feet. "What was I supposed to do?" he pleaded, cringing as the bark beneath his wife's feet cracked under the pressure of her grip. "Without me, my amigos—"

"Ay, here we go… just what goes on in that head? You think you're some salvador?!"

"Por favor, meu amor—" Rafael tried, extending a wing to caress the female toucan's cheek.

"Oh no!" Eva snapped immediately, dodging his touch and turning a cold shoulder. "This has gone _too_ far! You abandon the nest, endanger our chicks with _rat fever_—"

"Baby, it's not contagious…"

"Unbelievable, _irresponsible_—"

A muffled cough drew attention to the hollow's threshold, where Nico was warily climbing out onto the branch just below with one wing held out for balance and the other covering his beak. He stiffened when he noticed the two toucans staring at him and cleared his throat before saying, "M-Miss Eva?"

The female toucan shuffled her feathers, a bit unsettled by the unexpected interruption. She shot her husband a questioning look, but he only shrugged in response.

"You… you have a beautiful family," the canary said quietly, struggling but determined to maintain eye contact. He took a deep breath and continued with, "Please don't fight… because of me. Rafael's a great dad, and it's not his fault that I—"

"Amigo…"

"N-no, just listen. Please?" Nico begged, his expression making it difficult to refuse. When there was silence, he coughed and then resumed his speech. "Um, I'm sorry to cause so much trouble. W-without Rafael, I don't know where I'd be. I… guess I'm pretty hopeless." He laughed dryly. "Miss Eva, I just—um, just don't want you to think—"

"—that Rafael's a complete boboca?" the female toucan chuckled out of the blue, leaving the canary to blink in confusion. Her eyes softened and she gestured for the smaller bird to come closer; when he did, she draped a wing over him and with a rare smile, whispered, "His heart's big, Nico. That much… I _know_." She paused, straightening up and turning pointedly toward her husband, who gulped nervously. "But his _head's_ full of hot air! Livin' like he's still King of Carnaval!"

Nico's brow furrowed with thought. "Um, so you're not… angry?" he inquired uncertainly.

"Menino, I'm furious," Eva replied with an ironic laugh, placing a wing on her hip and strutting back toward the threshold of the hollow. She had almost disappeared when she pulled her head back to declare in warning, "I'll just deal with _you_ later."

Rafael's shoulders slumped as he watched his wife depart, but he fixed the best smile he could when he noticed the canary studying him with an unreadable expression. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he remarked, "You're looking better today, amigo!" That wasn't entirely true, so he frowned and added less loudly, "Kinda. Sorta. Not really…"

Shrugging, Nico let his gaze wander into the nearby trees where feathered flashes of color were weaving through the foliage. "It's just a cold," he responded nonchalantly.

The toucan nodded, though his face betrayed some doubt. "The bird sanctuary might—"

"NO," the canary practically yelled, eyes widening at the mere suggestion of handing himself over to the humans again. "S-Sorry, I just—I can't…"

"Okay, okay! Don't worry, amigo. Just thinking aloud."

There was a few moments of silence before a gray and red blur of feathers zoomed out of the hollow, nearly knocking Nico off his perch. The canary's mind was still registering the need to maintain balance when Rafael spread a wing out to catch him with practiced ease (the toucan had lost count of how many times his flightless chicks had almost tumbled out of their tree).

Blissfully ignorant of all this, Pedro was looping around a branch at hyperspeed for reasons yet unstated. When he screeched to a halt on the jungle floor to catch his breath, he looked up with a wide grin. "Call me crazy, birds, but I just had an EPITOME!"

Raising an eyebrow, Rafael said flatly, "That's _epiphany_—"

"Yeah, so listen! 'Cause this is gonna be so great," the cardinal quickly cut in, speaking fast and rocking on his heels with excitement. "Let's say we REBUILD the club, 'ey? Bigger and better than ever! That'll show 'em rats, am I right?!"

"Ay caramba," the toucan uttered under his breath, holding back a sarcastic comment about how obvious that should have been since the start while Nico chuckled but otherwise smiled supportively.

"Just you wait! Soon, we'll be takin' samba to the next level!" Pedro exclaimed cheerfully, pumping his wing in the air. He froze, his eyes suddenly far away, and then he yelled loudly, "THAT'S IT! That's the name!" Caught up in his enthusiasm, he shot himself skywards with all the momentum of a firecracker. His departing words echoed behind him like a plane's exhaust as he disappeared through the treetops: "Sorry, gotta fly! I'll catch you later, Nico, a'ight?!"

"Hey, w-wait! Pedro!" the canary protested, reaching out a wing and then letting it drop lamely to his side.

Rafael gave the smaller bird a comforting nudge. "Don't feel bad, amigo," he said with a kind smile. "It's just for today, you know?"

"Sure," Nico muttered dejectedly, his mind returning to the past when he would watch his siblings leave the nest without him. His brother Marx's childish taunts resurfaced and echoed in his head, making him frown unhappily at his feet. With a heavy sigh, he turned back to the hollow.

**RIO**

"Daddy, Daddy! Carlos bit me _again_!"

Overlapping cries of "Did not!" and "Did too!" filled the air until the arguing toucan chicks finally tackled one another and began to wrestle violently. They formed a ball of black feathers and went rolling straight into the form of Nico, who was curled up napping against the back wall. He didn't so much as flinch, but they gasped and stumbled back all the same.

"Oops! Sorry, Tio Pequeno!" one of the chicks, Sofia, whispered apologetically.

Carlos giggled into his wings at the use of the nickname (a reference to their uncle's small stature), only to choke on his amusement when the shadow of his father loomed over him.

"What did your mother and I say about using that name?" Rafael demanded with tightly crossed wings, tapping his foot.

The two chicks quickly hung their heads in embarrassment.

After sending them elsewhere to play, the toucan turned back to find Nico's brown eyes fluttering half-open. The canary wearily peered around the hollow. "Where's Pedro?" he asked with a yawn, forcing himself to his feet and standing on wobbly knees as a wave of dizziness washed over him. Leaning his shoulder against the wall for support, he added lazily, "Still… gotta fix… the nests…"

Rafael masked his concern with a smile. "Pedro's gone out, amigo. He said so, you remember?" There was an awkward pause as Nico gazed at him unblinking, and his smile tightened. "Ah, nevermind then! Don't worry. Why don't you just sleep more, 'ey?"

"Oh, 'm not tired…"

"Nonsense! Look at the time, it's—it's almost dark!" the toucan exclaimed, throwing his wing over the canary's eyes to black out the sunlight and leading him deeper into the shade of the hollow. For effect, he yelled out, "Bedtime, kids! C'mon!"

The chicks stopped dead in the midst of their roughhousing to stare between their father and the bright afternoon sun in confusion.

Nico struggled against the wing that covered his vision until he was finally able to duck underneath. "Need air," he mumbled as he pushed past his friend and started towards the threshold with an unsteady gait. With some difficulty, he climbed up into the branches, pressed his back against the tree trunk, and settled down to absorb the warmth from a beam of sunlight.

After a few minutes, the canary watched as Eva returned from the thick of the jungle burdened by a mouthful of fruit. Echoing cheers from the toucan chicks drifted up from within the hollow. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, allowing his mind to wander—until frantic flapping and heavy panting interrupted the peace of the afternoon. When the branch he was on dipped slightly under the weight of this newcomer, he half-expected to see Pedro, but instead he found himself staring at the face of a vaguely familiar flycatcher.

"…Otavio?"

"Si," the small bird chirped out quietly, nervous as ever. He was glancing around spastically, like he was expecting something to swoop from the sky and devour him. In a hushed tone, he added, "P-Pedro… he says I should find you."

Nico tilted his head. "Why—" he started to ask, only to be hushed by flailing wings.

"Shhh, Senor!" Otavio's eyes were bugging out of his head. He attempted to compose himself and then continued. "Gran problema, he tells me." Leaning closer and pausing dramatically to glance around again, he uttered beneath his breath, "You know… of la rata diablo?"

"Santos?!" the canary asked immediately, straightening up so quickly that he nearly banged his head against the other bird. He could feel his muscles tensing as he waited for a proper explanation.

"_SHHH!_ Ay, dios mio! _Si_, it is Santos," the flycatcher responded, hopping back and scanning the jungle as far as his neck allow. There was a strange, unspoken fear in his eyes. "La rata is very upset. He _threatens_ Pedro. Comprende? He says to me—"

"Are you hungry, amigo?!" Rafael popped his head out of the hollow and looked up at Nico with a smile.

The canary said nothing for a moment, trying not to look as stunned as he felt by Otavio's vanishing act. He blinked and replied slowly, "Uh… no, I'm—I'm good…"

Raising an eyebrow, the toucan lingered a moment at the threshold. "Doing alright?"

Nico nodded almost robotically, even forcing a half-smile. He dropped it the very instant his friend disappeared from view, breathing out a sigh. A blink later, the flycatcher reappeared next to him with eyes wider than ever, nearly startling the canary out of his feathers. When he had forced his heart back down into his chest, he grumbled, "_Please_ don't do that."

Otavio ignored him and leapt forward, pinning Nico's shoulders to the trunk of the tree. "We must go to your amigo!" he declared in a harsh whisper, his face eerily intense. "You will follow, no?"

Shaking his head, the canary partly extended his right wing. "Can't," he said vaguely, frowning a bit. Wouldn't Pedro have mentioned that fact? He pushed the thought away and started to say, "But Rafael… um, he could—"

"Oh no… no, no, Senor. He must not come," the flycatcher insisted, stepping back and locking his wingtips together anxiously.

"Then how—"

"We will walk! But we must go _now_, yes?"

**RIO**

Eva was rocking an egg in the crook of one wing while she stroked her chick Manuel's head with the tip of her other. The late afternoon heat had lulled the toucan chicks into slumber, leaving the hollow in a rare hush. Not everyone was resting so peacefully, though.

"You worry too much, Rafael. He's fine, you know."

The male toucan had been pacing circles for what seemed like hours, his brow furrowed with thought. He looked up at the sound of his wife's assurance and sighed. "I know, meu amor…"

A brief rush of wind called attention to the threshold where Pedro had just unexpectedly arrived. He opened his beak to make a greeting, but stopped short and instead stared around in confusion. "Oi, Rafy! Where's Nico at?"

"Been outside for hours," Rafael replied simply, continuing to pace.

The cardinal disappeared to search for his friend, but he returned within minutes, now looking more confused than before. "He ain't out there, bird." There was a pause. "C'mon, for real, where's he at? I wanted him to hear about the new club! 'Cause it's gonna be smokin', you hear? In the _good_ way!"

"Alright, alright! Focus, Pedro. You say Nico's not out there?"

"Uh-uh. I ain't blind, man, and he ain't THAT small," Pedro responded, his expression growing serious. With an accusing undertone, he added, "You telling me not ONE of you had eyes on 'im?"

One of the toucan chicks, Ana, stirred at this question. She yawned before mumbling sleepily, "I saw Tio Peq—um, Tio Nico… I saw him walking, Daddy."

"Walking!" Rafael burst out more loudly than he intended, earning a scathing glare from Eva when more of their chicks began to perk their heads up in curiosity. Clearing his throat, he lowered his voice before continuing. "Ana, you remember which way your Tio went?"

Wordlessly, the chick shuffled over to the threshold and climbed out just far enough to point her wing in the direction of the city.

Pedro ruffled Ana's head feathers affectionately and plastered on a confident grin. "A'ight, listen," he said firmly, "I'll handle this. How far could he go, right? We'll be back before you can say samba!"

"Samba," the toucan uttered cynically.

"I'm choosin' to ignore that," the cardinal replied, prodding his friend in the chest with one wingtip.

**RIO**

Nico's feet were scraping against the pavement as he neared the heart of the city. The burning sun overhead made it difficult for him to tell if his pounding headache and sweaty feathers were the result of his fever or the afternoon heat. He reasoned it might be a mixture of the two as he trudged around another block, barely aware of his intended destination at this point.

"Vamonos! This way!"

The canary nodded slowly in response to the command. Otavio's voice rang clear despite the haze in his mind, but when he squinted his eyes against the sunlight, there was no sign of the flycatcher.

After what seemed an eternity, long enough that Nico was beginning to think he might collapse in exhaustion, the first scents of ripening fruit on the breeze caught his attention. A little farther and he was in the market, weaving through a sea of human legs and pushing to the alley's end where the ruins of the samba club still lay untouched. There was no evidence of reconstruction and not so much as a stray feather belonging to Pedro. What was going on?

"Where'd you go? Otavio? Where'd you…" the canary trailed off with a sigh, beginning to climb the pile of ashen rubble. He pulled himself up onto a blackened chunk of wood and looked around. For a moment, he was sure there was a flash of movement nearby. "Pedro?"

No response and no further movement.

Dazed and confused, Nico buried his face in his wings and tried to collect his thoughts. The sounds of the fruit market and the chatter of humans rang in his ears with all the appeal of a static television set. Taking a deep breath, he slid the bottle cap off his head and stared at his reflection in the silver underside—red-rimmed eyes stared back at him. Over his shoulder, though, another face appeared: the flycatcher! He whirled around, but there was no one.

Clambering to his feet with a frown, the canary curled his wingtips into fists and called out loudly, "Otavio, stop that! Where's Pedro?! I mean—" He stopped to cough when his throat began itching from exertion. Still, the flycatcher would not appear, let alone reply.

A sudden gust of wind stirred up the ashes, forming something reminiscent of a lazy cyclone. When they settled, something else began to stir—something that had been all too perfectly camouflaged.

Nico, though, wasn't looking. He had already begun the descent towards the bustling fruit stalls. "Forget it, Otavio. I'm leaving," he muttered as he went.

The flycatcher's voice seemed to whisper after him, "But your amigo!"

"He's not—" the canary started to say somewhat angrily, but instead, his voice caught in his throat when he finally looked over his shoulder, and he squeaked out lamely, "Here…"

"And just who are you talking to, birdie?" Santos was standing on a crushed soda can, his fur covered in soot. He tilted his head and smiled crookedly at the small bird's expression. "What? Surprised to see me?" Stroking his chin pensively, he heaved a sigh. "Shame the table's only set for one, but… I'm sure we can arrange _something_."

"Y-you! What… what did you do with Pedro?"

"The fat one?" the large rat inquired, raising an eyebrow. "Regrettably, my little morsel, I haven't the _slightest_ clue what you mean."

**Author's Note:** _There you have it! The final showdown with Santos is on the horizon. Won't that be fun? Next chapter will be coming along soon! I'm a little preoccupied getting things in order for school, but no worries, I'll stay on top of this. Anyway, if you haven't figured out what's up with Nico yet, you'll just have to wait for chapter eleven! Until next time… thank you for reading and reviewing!_


	11. Come And Play

**Author's Note:** _I just broke my record for longest chapter, you guys. My average chapter is just a paragraph or two over six pages. Previously, the first chapter was the longest at a full seven pages. This one, though, has ventured into eight page territory. I could have made it shorter, but that would have required a cliffhanger, and I do believe that I promised a showdown. Well, here you have it! I'm rather exhausted after writing all this so I haven't proofread or anything. Fingers crossed that I didn't make any silly typos. Lastly, special thanks to Niah09 for last chapter's review (since I can't respond directly)! ;)_

Santos was lying. Wasn't he? For the sake of samba, how trustworthy could a murderous rat actually be? Of course, there was the other possibility—that he might actually be telling the truth. He didn't know where Pedro was, and in fact, the cardinal might be miles away! Where did that leave Nico? Oh yes, alone and feverish on a pile of burnt wood and broken light bulbs with the most notorious rodent in Rio (under whose stare his confidence seemed to melt like ice cream on a hot day).

"Oh, just look at that face. Hopeless, confused… I could eat you up," the rat mused with mocking affection in his tone. He broke into a crooked grin. "Mind if I do?"

The canary didn't stop to think. He turned tail and scampered towards the fruit market, summoning every last scrap of energy in his bones—it wasn't much, but the odds were better than the alternative.

"It's almost too easy," Santos sighed, yawning widely before throwing himself into an impressive leap. When his paws hit the alley floor, he was already running. The scent of fear and sickness ignited a predatory fire in him that made it irrelevant whether or not his prey remained directly in his limited sight; there was just one small concern for him—the humans.

Indeed, any customers sporting bare ankles soon felt the tickle of the large rat's tail on their skin, causing them to glance down. They wasted little time in sounding the alarm that would send half the market into an absolute panic: "RATO GRANDE!"

And with that, friendly chatter turned to screams and squeals.

Nico tumbled out from the alley under a barrage of badly aimed fruit. He propped himself against the wall with his good wing to catch his breath; cold sweat was trickling through his feathers as he looked back at the chaos. Some of the humans were yelling furiously and stamping at the ground, others were huddling together behind the fruit stalls, and still others were fleeing the scene with passion enough for an apocalypse.

No sign of Santos.

When the canary pushed himself away from the wall, he found his vision was swimming in and out of focus. He stepped around the corner, slowly but deliberately, and much to his astonishment, just about slammed into _another _wall—not just any wall, but one covered in the strangest sort of gray moss.

Realization dawned with a stabbing force. "H-how did… you…"

"What's that? Rat got your tongue?" Santos smirked, looming close with a menacing gleam in his eye. "Tell you what, birdie—he'll have that tongue soon."

Swallowing hard, Nico stepped back, but his heel caught in a crack that threw him off balance. This resulted in his bottle cap slipping off. He snatched it from the air with both wings, about to replace it on his head when a glimmer of sunlight on the silvery bottom caught his attention. Through the haze of his fever, an idea was slowly taking root.

"—bother running," the large rat had been saying, unaware that he was speaking mainly to himself. "We both know how this ends."

The canary nodded distractedly in response, studying the angle of the sun.

Santos cocked his head suspiciously. "That's it then? I'll just… eat you?" He tapped his chin thoughtfully for a while and then shrugged his shoulders. Moving to close the gap between him and the small bird, he added, "If that's how you want it…"

Nico held his breath, waiting until the opportune moment. The rat was almost on top of him when he finally thrust his wings out before him, bottle cap gripped tightly, and watched anxiously from over the rim as the white hot sun reflected fully in the silver—directly into his opponent's one good eye.

"ARGH!"

Much to his dismay, the canary had failed to notice a lone, stubborn cloud inching towards the sun. When it began to interfere with his defense, he simply placed the bottle cap under his wing and resumed running. He wouldn't dare look over his shoulder to see how long it would be before Santos recovered. Not like he had to, since the rat's heavy footfalls were easily heard. It was, in fact, the absence of this sound that caused him to falter and turn after a couple minutes.

It was a thought not worth entertaining that the rat might have given up.

Tense with expectations of attack, Nico began to walk backwards until he bumped into something. He whirled around immediately, his heart thumping with sheer adrenaline, but there was merely a potted plant to greet him.

"Think, think…" he mumbled to himself, squeezing his eyes shut like it might relieve his headache.

Some feet away, a shop door was propped open to let the breeze in. The canary scurried over to take a look, threw one last glance over his shoulder, and snuck inside. He froze when he noticed the owner's cat sleeping soundly on a shelf of herbs; creeping slowly past so as not to disturb the stillness in the air, he moved further into the building.

Wooden stairs were leading up to a storage loft near the back of the shop. They were relatively high for a small bird to climb, but Nico managed to hop his way to the landing before pausing to catch his breath. He was bracing himself for his next hop when savage hissing made him turn his head—the cat had been woken and was stalking angrily towards something very ugly and very familiar. Something which, instead of exhibiting fear, was burning a one-eyed glare straight up the stairs.

It was terribly strange to feel indebted to a cat, the canary couldn't help thinking. Shaking his head, he quickened his pace up the stairs (as best he could manage).

There was but a single window in the loft. A maze of boxes and crates marked the path to it. Nico hadn't really thought anything through at this point, but he focused on making it to the window all the same. He did his best to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut when the cat's hissing suddenly faded away, but he wouldn't dare retrace his steps to investigate.

"Here, birdie bird… won't you come out to play?"

Santos, it seemed, wouldn't so much as entertain the idea that he might not have the upper hand. That sort of confidence was frightening in a predator—and especially one whose breathing was getting louder with every step he took. Was it illusion or were those footfalls suddenly deafening?

Nico was balancing on the window sill by now. The shutters were thrown wide open, there was no screen to block his exit. He snapped his left wing out and then, more timidly, his right. _Just jump_, he thought repeatedly, clinging to those words like a mantra. _You're still a bird. You CAN fly._ Did he believe that? That was hard to say as he looked down at the street below. Everything was spinning in and out of focus, less than an inch away one moment and miles too far the next. What he was about to attempt was arguably insane, but decidedly less so than surrendering to a rat's digestive tract.

_Now or never._

**RIO**

Pedro was following a meager trail of breadcrumbs out of the jungle and through the city. There were plenty supposed sightings of Nico, but none were concrete; in fact, it happened more than once that one bird would point their wing north and another would point south. Most exasperating of all, though, were the teasing flashes of yellow that excited his hopes at every turn.

After a while, the cardinal simply alighted on a metal cage that was swinging outside a pet shop. Only when an indignant chirp caught his ear did he think to look down at its inhabitant—a very strange looking canary with overgrown feathers and bulging eyes.

"Yikes! That ain't natural, bird. Just sayin'," Pedro remarked with a blatantly disturbed expression.

"Cheep, cheep."

"Right, so listen, man… I'm lookin' for this friend of mine," the cardinal explained while plainly trying to avoid unnecessary eye contact. "Kinda looks like you a bit. You seen him?"

"Cheep."

"That's great man," Pedro replied flatly, slapping a wing over his face. "Really, thanks."

The cardinal launched himself off the cage and back into the air. He zipped past a crowd of tourists, around a delivery truck, and glided around a tight corner into an alley with a pensive, determined frown. He was exiting back into the streets—or rather, shooting through like a bullet—when he was blindsided by a feathery missile.

"C'mon, bird! Watch where you're… flying?"

Nico was _flying_. It was a difficult thing to accept. Surreal, even. That was all written quite clearly on Pedro's disbelieving face (beak unhinged, eyes hanging out). He watched wordlessly as the canary recovered from his tumble through the air and finally managed to choke out, "When did THIS happen?"

"Not now, I—"

"You crazy?! This is HUGE."

"Wait—"

"Uh-uh! No way, you gotta tell me!" the cardinal rambled cheerfully, bumping gently into his friend's shoulder. "Ain't you sick? What's the deal! I mean—"

"SANTOS. Santos, okay?" The name brought about immediate silence and Nico sighed gratefully. He was fluttering weakly, just enough to stay airborne, and his legs were visibly trembling. "It's… a long story."

_Things were looking pretty hopeless and the rat knew it all too well. He flashed a terrifying grin and uttered lowly, "End of the road, birdie." Time was running out, he was getting closer, just one solid leap away at this point—holding back only because he knew the odds were in his favor._

_Nico turned his back and focused on relaxing his flight muscles. There were no second chances here. He closed his eyes tight, picturing himself soaring beneath the blue skies._ JUMP_, his thoughts screamed at him as a cloud of foul breath enveloped him from behind. "Not yet," he whispered to himself, moving a toe closer to the edge of the sill but otherwise holding back._

"_Your friends won't help you this time…"_

_That much was true. The canary wasn't kidding himself here. No, it was time to help himself. He took a deep breath, waited until the breeze had kicked up into gusting warm air, spread his wings wide and threw himself from the window._

_In an unexpected turn of events, Santos jumped after him. He even managed to sink his claws into Nico's shoulders, nearly dragging him down to the pavement despite the small bird's frantic flapping._

"_You won't go! You won't!" the large rat practically screeched, scrabbling to maintain his grip. His weight was like an anchor. "I'm so hungry… always so hungry…"_

_The canary's chest was heaving with effort. He could feel his wings fighting to fold against his chest; his body begged to fall freely and simply give up. At the same time, the claws that were pulling angrily at his skin and threatening to touch his raw bones stirred the will to fight and survive in his gut._

_Santos had begun drooling and his yellow teeth gnashed wildly at the air. "Eat you up, swallow you whole… I'll do it!" he growled, beginning to lose his grip—not on Nico, but on his sanity instead. He was struggling to bring himself closer to the small bird's vulnerable throat, desperate to have his meal once and for all, but he failed to notice himself slipping. "So hungry…"_

_Nico shuddered as the rat's claws scraped their way down his back, raking through his feathers. He was exhausted and it wouldn't be long before Santos had him on the ground; in fact, he was amazed his wings hadn't given out already. Adrenaline was to thank for that._

"AND?" Pedro insisted in exasperation, only growing more desperate when the canary stared blankly at him. "You're killing me here, bird!"

"And what?" Nico asked with a quick shrug, looking away and then adding, "He just fell…"

"Wait, so that's it?! Like, it's over?"

"Not yet," came the solemn, whispered reply.

The cardinal raised an eyebrow in confusion. He was itching to insist a better explanation, but his attention was instead snatched up by another concern—the canary had turned aside just enough to unwittingly expose the claw marks on his back that were dying his feathers pink. Several heartbeats passed before the realization of this dawned on him and he faced forward once more.

Silence.

Clearing his throat, Pedro played up a casual appearance. "What now, 'ey?"

Nico was quiet a long while. "Find Santos," he said softly, gulping as he said it despite the resolved look in his eyes. "Play his game… and beat him at it."

**RIO**

The two birds had returned to where Santos had fallen and, naturally, there wasn't hair or hide to be seen of him. One thing betrayed him, however, and that was the trickle of red leading from the pavement to a shady space behind the tire of a broken down car.

Positioning himself at the head of the breeze so that his scent would carry, Nico simply stood and waited in the road. His right wing was held limply at his side, legitimately strained from his flight. The plan? _This was it._ Hardly elaborate, but any further planning would seem presumptuous. Who could say if the rat would play into the canary's wings at all?

"Psst!" Pedro was peering down from the branches of a potted sapling. "You sure 'bout this?"

It was perhaps the tenth time the canary had heard that question from his friend, but he nodded patiently in response, albeit discreetly so. His eyes were firmly trained on Santos, who was slowly emerging from his hideout, pink nose quivering with interest. _Just wait. Stand your ground._

Head turning, gaze searching—moments later, a spark of recognition.

"Still don't like this," the cardinal was grumbling to himself. He clutched his perch harder as the large rat took a heavy step into the daylight, seeming intrigued if not fiercely suspicious.

Santos paused seemingly out of the blue, still quite close to the old car, and narrowed his left eye into a glare. "_Tag! You're it!_ That's what all the little birdies say!" he spat out, thrusting his paw forward to point at the thin branches that had barely concealed Pedro from the start.

Nico shook his head, like it would matter. "Just me," he answered with an even tone.

"Liar," the rat snarled back, his tail whipping the pavement.

"Got that right, rato!" It wasn't part of the 'plan,' but the cardinal couldn't contain himself. He jumped in—literally—and having curled his wings up to flex imagined biceps, he said loudly, "Ain't no one gonna mess with a friend of Pedro's, you hear?"

The canary might have protested had it not been perfectly evident that his breath would be wasted. There wasn't time, in any case, as the sound of a rattling engine was drawing close at an impressive (and probably illegal) speed. Within seconds, the recklessly driven vehicle had screeched around the corner and whizzed down the road in a villainous blur, ruffling feather in its wake.

"H-hey," Pedro said through a fit of coughing, waving at the dust with his wing. "Where'd Santos go?"

There wasn't a soul in sight and even wishful thinking wouldn't make one appear, so Nico said nothing in reply. _Not good_, he thought grimly, feeling a prickling sensation building in his quills.

"Looking for me?" Santos asked all too casually, having seemingly materialized behind the two birds. His shadow loomed over them like a dark, threatening cloud, and as they turned to face him, his awful grin flashed like lightning.

"W-wha? How did he…" the cardinal trailed off with a hard swallow.

The large rat's one eye was glued on Nico, who calmly met his stare but otherwise exhibited little emotion, even as the crazed rodent took an intimidating step closer. "_Mary had a pretty bird, feathers bright and yellow_," he half-sung in a deep, scratchy voice. The words rolled around in his throat like gravel. "_Slender legs… upon my word, he was a pretty fellow_."

Pedro stiffened, feeling the teasing brush of a hairless tail against his legs. He cast an uneasy glance at the canary, who was so still and unreadable that he might be a statue.

"_The sweetest notes he always sung, which much delighted Mary_," Santos snarled lowly, his nose just about touching the tip of Nico's beak. When there was still no reaction, he drew back again and his good eye grew all the blacker with rage. "_But near the cage she'd always sit… with fork and plate at ready!_"

Jumping back to avoid the rat's sudden swipe, the canary chuckled despite himself and broke into a run.

The cardinal shook his head in utter disbelief and took the air, flying so close to the pavement that his wingtips brushed the ground. "Have you gone louco, bird?!" he hollered at his friend, eyebrows raised to suggest he would accept no other explanation.

"Just follow my lead," Nico responded vaguely as he ducked beneath a parked van and headed toward a small corner shop labeled 'Plantas Exoticas.'

No customers could be seen inside the eccentric and overgrown building. Vines were crawling up the desk where a single employee had fallen asleep in their chair, paperwork strewn all around. Humidity and the smell of wet soil hit any who entered like a crashing wave; it was overpowering, yet oddly pleasant. At the back of the shop, numerous signs with bold red lettering were tacked on the walls, all pointing to a rather enormous plant that was altogether alien in its appearance.

It was oddly attractive with its tendrils and the purple-spotted pitchers it boasted in place of flowers. The scent emitting from the depth of its cavity was sweet like nectar, inviting passersby to admire the lethal goblet. At the forefront, the largest pitcher on the plant—having flourished beyond average expectations—was held steady by metal supports.

The canary climbed the neck of the plant until he arrived on the thick-lipped rim of the huge pitcher. He took a moment to glance into the cavernous trap before settling down and resigning himself to waiting. It wouldn't be long now…

Pedro, meanwhile, swooped overhead and came to rest in the rafters of the shop, kicking aside a few leaves in the process. Even so high up, climbing plants had dominated the ceiling like a plague of green. If Nico had formed a plan in his mind by now, there was no time to ask about it. He could only watch.

"Well, this has all been very entertaining," Santos said darkly as he approached, swatting aside the hanging ferns in his path. He stopped and stared up at Nico, who was now visibly shaking—not from fear and certainly not from a chill, but from the adrenaline that pulsed in his veins. Still, the rat was prompted to ask mockingly, "Has dinner gotten cold? Let's heat things up then."

"Don't keep me waiting," the canary replied breezily, holding back a smirk of satisfaction as irritation sparked in his opponent's good eye.

_This was it._

Santos cleared the floor in a single bound, claws outstretched to take hold of the metal supporting the strange plant. He hauled himself to the rim, balanced on its edge, and sought to grab at Nico's leg. The canary, though, had already launched himself into the air, keeping himself just millimeters out of reach. Only there was a slight, potentially fatal miscalculation: the rat's arm was capable of stretching farther than one would think.

"You're mine now, pretty bird."

Pedro squawked out a war cry and dove from the rafters like an eagle with prey in sight. He closed his feet firmly around the top of his friend's outstretched wings and, with all the strength he could muster, yanked backwards against the large rat's weight.

Growling in frustration, Santos was forced to release his grip as he was thrown off balance. He teetered mere moments before falling forward, his paws outstretched to catch himself—only to discover how slimy and slippery the pitcher's inner coating really was. Without a foothold, he was helpless to resist the inevitable and so, uttering a final strangled cry, the infamous rat plunged fully and headfirst into the unforgiving hollow of the carnivorous plant.

Nico watched in a daze as the walls of the pitcher thrashed violently against the metal supports. He had tumbled harmlessly into the soil at the bottom of the plant.

"So… _hungry_…" the rat's sobbing voice echoed distantly from the pitcher. Soon, all movement ceased.

For a while, there was only the sound of Pedro's wings flapping from where he hovered just above the canary. His beak moved like he meant to say something, but no words would come. After gulping a few times, he whispered to no one in particular, "_Sweet samba_..."

What more could any bird say?

**Author's Note:** _OKAAAY. Moment of silence for Santos, anybody? Haha. I'm sitting here unsure whether to laugh or cry over my own villain's demise. I'm seriously going to miss him though. I had way too much fun writing this chapter. If you were expecting him to go down in a bar-style brawl, I do apologize! An epic pursuit culminating with a meat-eating plant seemed more fitting to me. For the record, although I took a few minor creative liberties with the plant in question, it's actually not fake. Go ahead and Google "pitcher plants" if you're so inclined. This author's note is getting really long, but I need to mention that Santos was singing a nursery rhyme which I think is called simply "Mary Had A Pretty Bird." That last line was twisted around by me though. It's usually something about Mary sitting by the cage to listen to her canary._

_All THAT said, this will probably be my last update before school starts. Things may slow down depending on how much homework they throw at me, but stick around 'cause Nico's long awaited stage performance draws ever near. (Oh and P.S., since I haven't gotten around to mentioning it in dialogue, __Otavio__ from last chapter was indeed a hallucination. If you've forgotten who that is, I recommend referencing 'Tonight's Music' [chapter 5].)_ _Thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	12. The Next Level

**Author's Note:** _Two more chapters after this, guys. That's the plan, anyways. I'm so freaking tired and tomorrow's only my third day back in school. BUT I hope that you find this chapter up to my usual standards. Be warned that there's a time gap where it starts (just in case that's not clear enough in the text). As such, certain things are implied more than stated outright. Annnd I'll have a few more comments after we're done here. Thanks for reading and reviewing! Much appreciated, as always._

"Three months."

Such was the amount of time, or so Pedro claimed with the straightest face imaginable, that had passed between "right now" and the defeat of Santos (and, in turn, since Nico had lapsed into a comatose state). There was a long drawn out silence in which the cardinal studied his friend's features—frozen in panic—without so much as a twitch of a smile. When he finally dropped the act, however, his laughter spilled out like the yolk from a cracked egg.

"Pedro, it's not funny!" the canary exclaimed from where he lay, too weighted down with bandages to even consider sitting up. Adopting a suspicious frown, he added, "Wait, why're you laughing?"

The cardinal wiped at his eyes with one wing and grinned widely. "Nothin', nothin'. It's just—" He began laughing again. Really, it wasn't that he found his own prank_ that_ amusing, but to see his best friend awake after what seemed an eternity of waiting, well… suffice to say that his happiness manifested in the urge to laugh. "Been maybe a week," he managed to say once he was calm enough.

Nico nodded in acknowledgement, briefly closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "And Santos?"

"Plant food," Pedro replied with a casual shrug of his wings, then raised an eyebrow uncertainly. "Tell me you ain't suffering memory loss now."

Chuckling, the canary shook his head. "Just making sure." He wiggled around in his bandages, paused as it began to dawn on him that vet supplies hardly grew on trees, and at last, turned to his friend with a puzzled expression. "I'm afraid to ask, but how did I…"

"Oh, that stuff? Rafy's idea," the cardinal said vaguely, trying to hold back a smirk at the memories that surfaced (suffice to say that the bird sanctuary was mysteriously short a few rolls of bandaging).

"_Ay, Pedro, c'mon! Hold him up so I can finish."_

"_Doin' my best, man. You know, he's heavier than he looks," Pedro whined, struggling to hold an unconscious Nico in his wings. He shifted the weight of his load and tried to be patient while Rafael spun white bandages like cotton candy all around the canary's injured shoulders and torso._

_After a while, the toucan stepped back to admire his work. "How's he look?"_

"_Like a marshmallow."_

_Rafael waved his wing dismissively over the cardinal's criticism and moved to assist in propping the heavily bandaged little bird against the wall. They fixed him into a sitting position, but despite their best efforts, his head lolled defiantly to the side—however uncomfortable it looked, there was little they could do to battle the forces of gravity._

_Pedro walked to the threshold of the hollow and stared out at the setting sun. "He really overdid it, huh? What if—"_

"_He'll wake up. Give it time, amigo," the toucan cut in, stepping over to the cardinal and placing a reassuring wing on his shoulder. With a sideways smile, he remarked more casually, "Made it this far in one piece, 'ey? Why worry?"_

_THUMP._

_Nico had slowly but surely been sliding down the wall until the ground finally caught up with him. Now he was lying on his side with wings outstretched, feathers crumpled, legs sprawled, and head resting awkwardly on the hard floor. All this while still thoroughly unconscious._

_Clearing his throat, Pedro said nothing but threw Rafael a look that said plainly, "You were saying?"_

_The toucan, wincing in embarrassment over the scene, spread his wings out in a helpless shrug. "Ay, just… grab more bandages, will you?" he requested miserably, already marching over to his fallen patient._

"_Yeah, I'm on it, man."_

Shaking his head to clear the daze, Pedro fixed on a cheerful grin. "Anyway, if you're feelin' better, we should head out to the club!" he declared with a wink.

Nico perked up with interest. "That means…"

"You bet! Back in business. Grand opening's tonight," the cardinal replied proudly. He looked positively elated as the mere mention of the club's reconstruction. After all, any week without samba was a week too long. "Aww, man, and just wait 'til you see the place we found! Otavio and the guys—"

"Otavio?" the canary interrupted with a pensive frown.

"Er, yeah! You know him, right?"

Nodding a bit, Nico hesitated and then said, "I just thought..." He paused. "Nah, nevermind."

Pedro raised a curious eyebrow at this but ultimately shrugged it off. "Say, let's get outta here before Rafy checks in." He was wearing a devious half-smile and eagerly rocking back and forth on his heels. "C'mon, what d'you think?!"

The canary shifted awkwardly in his prison of bandages. "Um…"

"Que? What's up?" the cardinal asked, head tilted in confusion. "You wanna go, right?"

Nico nodded rapidly.

"And you're feelin' up to it, yeah? Honest?"

Again, the small bird nodded, and yet he still looked hesitant. His brown eyes had begun flickering nervously between his friend's face and something just over his shoulder. Rather, _someone_.

"He's… standing right behind me, huh?" Pedro realized dejectedly, turning around with a sheepish grin to face the seriously unimpressed toucan perched at the threshold of the hollow. He shifted his weight anxiously from one foot to another. "Rafy, man! 'Suuup? Gonna give some bird a heart attack one day! Heh. Didn't even… hear you come in…"

"You don't say?"

**RIO**

"For the last time, boys… _absolutely not_!" Rafael's verdict came down on the two smaller birds like a mallet. He was standing over them, wings tightly crossed, with an expression that simply dared them to attempt exiting the hollow on his watch. Although he had listened patiently to their pleas, bargaining, and best arguments, there was little reason to believe that his mind wasn't made up from the start.

Pedro was on his knees clinging to the toucan's leg in desperation. "_Please, _Rafy?" he asked with the biggest, saddest brown eyes he could manage. "Birds'll be talkin' about this for years! You _can't_ make him miss it!"

"I'm feeling much better," Nico chimed in helpfully as an innocent smile spread across his beak.

Rafael looked utterly unconvinced. "Ay, that so?"

The cardinal nodded enthusiastically at this, scrambled to his feet, and hustled over to his friend's side. "How many feathers am I holding up?" he asked seriously, having sufficiently separated three of the feathers at his wingtip.

"Um, three…"

"Right, there you go! He's doin' great. Told you, didn't I? 'Ey, _'eyyy_?"

Staring blankly for a moment, the toucan finally brushed past and started work on unraveling Nico's bandages. With the sunlight shining bright in the jungle and the humidity beginning to build up, it was clear that the small bird was beginning to sweat uncomfortably.

"Oh, c'mon!" Pedro exclaimed with a shameless pout. For him, there was nothing worse than being ignored altogether—something Rafael knew well and often exploited for amusement's sake. "_Raaafy_…"

"No."

Still pouting, the cardinal prodded tirelessly, "But it's the _grand opening_, man!"

The toucan said nothing as he unwound the last of Nico's bandages. Having then folded his wings back to his sides, he watched as the canary swayed on unsteady legs and toppled backwards into the nest. Looking perfectly unsurprised by this, he calmly and firmly reiterated his position: "_No_."

Pedro groaned loudly, caught his best friend's eye, and grimaced apologetically—a sign that he was consenting defeat. He mouthed a single word: "Sorry."

Rafael paid the two birds little mind as he began pushing the used bandages toward the outside for disposal. He only turned back around, albeit reluctant to hear more begging, when a hesitant, gentle tap on his leg caught his attention.

"Um…" Nico was standing there, gaze averted and wings outstretched to keep his balance. "I—"

"Ay caramba," the toucan sighed before the smaller bird could really speak. Unexpectedly, he broke into a chuckle. "We all know how this ends up, 'ey?" _You're too soft_, Eva's voice seemed to whisper critically in his ear.

Pedro had already jumped to attention, presuming favorable intentions. "YES!"

"There's _one _condition," Rafael declared with every possible emphasis, once again serious. He tapped his foot to bide time until both the canary and the cardinal were staring at him silently and attentively, then nodded in approval and prepared to elaborate. "Nico rests until I say. That means you don't leave this _tree_ until I say. Comprende?"

"Aww, man. Not even for, y'know, the little bird's bush?" Pedro asked in a desperate voice, crossing his legs and beginning to squirm where he stood.

Ignoring this, the toucan tapped the tip of his wing against his beak thoughtfully. "I'll just come along to make _sure_ you boys behave," he decided with feigned weariness, as though it somehow inconvenienced him that he had found reason to attend the club's much anticipated re-opening.

Nico just smiled.

**RIO**

The club was everything it had been and more. Scratch that, it didn't even compare.

"Location, location, _location_," Pedro said with a wide grin as the sun was going down that evening. Observing the appreciative shock of his two friends, it was no exaggeration to say that the cardinal's grin was close to bursting the seams of his face altogether. He radiated exuberance and pride.

The shell was nothing more than an old, looted army plane—mostly green with some black accents—covered up in snake-like vines and thick brush at the edge of a cliff overlooking Rio. By human standards, the plane, however stripped down the interior, was relatively small… but for a crowd of party birds? It was prime real estate with plenty of wing room.

Even Rafael was speechless when they pushed past a curtain of leaves and approached the hatch on the underside of the plane. Lights and music were spilling out against all common sense.

"Gotta ask, amigo," the toucan finally said, shaking his head in disbelief. "How'd you manage this one?"

"Eh, you ain't the only one with connections, Rafy." The look on the cardinal's face easily implied his delight at having to answer this inquiry. With a smug grin, he wiggled his eyebrows and added vaguely, "We got hooked up. I mean, _literally_."

Nico blinked at this and then realized what his friend meant. He pushed aside a few leaves with his foot to reveal a bright orange extension cable. It was well camouflaged, but from what he could tell, it stretched from the plane, down the cliff, and all the way to the bird sanctuary (whose lights could be seen through the trees down below blinking on and off). Naturally, there were more extension cables where that came from. Trust the birds of Rio to get creative in the name of samba!

Pedro cleared his throat and took on a serious look as they climbed the ramp upwards into the plane's belly. Formally as he could manage, he bowed and gestured sweepingly to the dance floor with one wing. "Welcome, party birds… to _The Next Level_," he said smoothly, eyes still betraying his excitement.

"Wow," the canary breathed out in earnest amazement, taking in the sights of the new club.

Flat benches lined the walls below small covered windows, now serving as elevated platforms to rest from dancing. Above this, even, hand railing was operating as perches for the smaller birds in the crowd. At the front of the plane, the cockpit—hidden by a slightly torn curtain—had been converted into both the "backstage" area and a sound control booth. Old supply crates were stacked up against the threshold of the door to create a performance stage only slightly higher than the benches. Lastly though perhaps most important, lighting and speakers were rigged up in any available corner to provide the colorful atmosphere and earth-trembling sound.

"Impressive, my friend," Rafael admitted, clapping the cardinal on the back with a heavy wing. He offered a smile before wandering into the crowd at the beckoning of several acquaintances.

Tapping Nico to get his attention back, Pedro jerked his head toward the front of the plane. He stepped to the edge of the dance floor and called loudly over the dancing birds, "A'ight, hotwings! Step aside, step aside. Pedro's comin' through."

Like tides obedient to the moon, the feathered ocean withdrew to form an alley leading to the cockpit. The cardinal moved on through and greeted birds of every size and shape as he passed, slapping wings with some and winking at others. In the shadow of his friend's popularity, the canary followed more invisibly (though that was largely thanks to his small stature). Soon enough, his reputation—the one he wasn't yet aware that he had—caught up with him in a series of shouts.

"Oi, wait! Is _that_… well, ain't that the kid who took out Santos?"

"You're right, that's him! Listen up, todos! That's the rat killer over there!"

Pedro laughed good naturedly as Nico bumped into to him from behind, visibly anxious and distracted by his newfound fame. "Makin' a name for yourself, 'ey?" the cardinal asked over his shoulder, grinning at his friend as they were bombarded with a flood of questions about Santos.

"Didn't mean to," the canary gulped nervously in reply, wide eyed as the crowd pressed in around him.

"Said it before, man—you gotta _own it_!"

Backstage was no less frantic than the dance floor. There was something panicky and less carefree about the chaos in this situation, though, and Pedro picked up on that fact immediately. He stepped forward and demanded, "What's the deal?" When no one answered him, he reached a wing out and grabbed the nearest bird by the chest feathers—this just happened to be Enzo, a yellow parakeet who was handy on the drums when he wasn't drunk on nectar. "Fill me in, bird! What's happenin' here?"

Enzo stared blankly; the gears turning in his brain could practically be heard. "Uh, the openers... they're, like, no shows," he said after a long while, frowning in thought and then nodding slowly to affirm his own statement. "Cold feet or something, 'kay?"

"W-what? We can't have opening night without openers, Enzo!" the cardinal exclaimed in frustration, releasing the parakeet to bury his face in his wings. "C'mon, we seriously got no back-ups?"

"Dunno, man. Guess not," the parakeet shrugged boredly before melting back into the chaos.

Pedro moved to the nearest control panel and, without warning, began to smack his head repeatedly against the array of buttons and knobs. This had an interesting effect on the light display, but the tech birds didn't necessarily see it that way—they glared at him until he retreated and resumed his head banging against an ordinary wall. "Aww, man… this is a _disaster_," he moaned despairingly.

Nico hovered uncomfortably nearby, wings itching to reach out and intercept his friend's skull, lest it be caused irreparable damage. Instead, just trying to be helpful somehow, he quietly posed the most obvious question, "Um, can't you sing?"

"Nah, that ain't how it works," the cardinal explained, now resting his forehead against the wall with his eyes closed. "Crowd needs a warm up. Someone new, someone fresh… _that's_ an opener!"

"Oh," came the nearly inaudible reply.

"Gotta be raw! Hard to find so close to the show, 'ey? Let me tell you! Pressure's on, bird, and—" Pedro stiffened, his eyes snapped open, and he straightened up like a lightning rod. Whirling around, he backed Nico into a corner before the smaller bird even knew what was happening. "YOU."

The canary held up his wings in defense and shook his head in protest. "I can't," he choked out, pressing himself deeper into the corner.

"I have HEARD you sing, Nico. Stop kiddin' yourself," the cardinal replied with a scowl, curling his wingtip into a fist and tapping the bottle cap atop his friend's head. "This is your chance! You gotta do this! C'mon, I _need_ you, man, and there's, like, an army of hotwings out there that'll _eat you up_!" He paused abruptly and smirked. "Not literally or nothin'."

"Rafael said—"

"Bit of singin' never put any bird in another coma," Pedro interrupted reassuringly, rolling his eyes.

Nico stared at his feet, his mind racing to find excuses. _Any _excuse at this point. "B-but I still don't have a song," he reasoned, gritting his beak and fiddling awkwardly with his wingtips.

The cardinal sighed heavily and shadows of disappointment fell over his face as he began to turn away. "A'ight, I get it. You don't wanna do it? That's fine," he mumbled, shrugging sadly. "You'd have been great, you know? Nah, but it's cool… we'll find some other bird."

Silence.

"Can't believe I'm saying this," the canary practically whispered, though even this was enough to make his friend stop dead in his tracks with anticipation. "I'll… I'll do it. One song. Just for tonight. I'll—"

Pedro, overcome with excitement and gratitude, more or less proceeded to tackle Nico. When he pulled away, he was grinning from one end of his beak to the other. "You so won't regret this, I swear!" the cardinal burst out cheerfully, already steering a bewildered Nico toward the stage curtain. "Get out there and make me proud, 'ey?!"

**Author's Note:** _No proofreading here. That will probably come back to haunt me. Too sleepy to care. Anyways! So yes, the NEW club is in a crashed/abandoned plane in the jungle (if you didn't get that for some reason). Stretch your imagination a bit if need be. Now then, I've seen Rio's samba club go by a dozen different names, but there was something Pedro said in the movie that inspired me to use the name I did. To be specific, he says something like, "This ain't the level. The next level's the level!" Has the name been used before? I have no clue. Moving on, thinking about levels made me think about things that are up and the sky is up and there are planes in the sky, so… voila, club in a crashed plane. OKAY. Now that I've shared my thought processes, I'm going to sleep before I ramble any further. I will leave you all with this promise: next chapter, Nico will finally perform. Stay tuned!_


	13. His Heartsong

**Author's Note:** _Oh jeez, I wrote this entire thing in one afternoon. "I'll just get it started and THEN do my homework," I tell myself. Haha. So much for that. Well, anyway, that's all good news for you guys! Here it is, at long last, the performance you've been waiting for. Fingers crossed that it lives up to the hype? ;)_

Was this stage fright? Nico certainly thought so. He was standing beneath a spotlight so bright that it left him blind and unable to see the crowd—though perhaps that was best since their murmurs alone were enough to make his feathers curl. This was completely insane. He didn't belong out here!

Pedro was watching from the darkened edges of the stage with his wingtips crossed behind his back. Though it killed him to admit it, there was nothing he could do but wait. Maybe, just maybe, this would work. He gritted his beak, crossed his wingtips tighter; the crowd's hush was dissipating and evolving into a confused clamor. _C'mon, c'mon…_

The canary swallowed, his throat dry like parchment. He closed his eyes, summoned inner peace, and glanced over to the side of the stage—his best friend was grinning reassuringly at him. That was enough, he decided.

Turning his back on the crowd, as though to leave, he suddenly stopped and very, very quietly, began to sing the words that haunted his mind: "_Now I feel that this heart… of mine has taken many falls._" Just like that, there was dead silence. Good or bad, who could say? No turning back now. "_Still, sometimes the rain… can turn into a waterfall._"

Nico took a deep breath and raised his voice just slightly. "_And the prettiest things… can come out of the coldest night. Yeaaah_…" With that, he turned back around to face his fear, though still unable to see much with the lighting, and stepped to the edge of the stage with a hint of a smile. Spreading his wings wide, he sang out, "_And even with broken wings… sometimes you find your way to flyyyy…_"

For a moment there, he thought he noticed Rafael through the thick of the crowd. He was smiling.

"_It's time to be…_" Vivid green lights splashed across the stage and moved onto the crowd—they had begun to sway in time with the music that Enzo and the rest of the band were now improvising. "_Bigger, bigger… stronger, stronger… harder, harder._"

"_It's time to be…_" The canary's eyes had picked up the sparkle of the neon lights. "_Bigger, bigger… stronger, stronger… harder, harder._" His voice now reached every corner of the club. "_It's time to be…_"

Fluttering up to perch on an overturned can of peas, Nico could practically feel his confidence building. Not just that, though—there was something different inside. Like a rhythm that he'd never _quite_ felt. His heart seemed to beat in time with the music; every pulse in his veins happened in time with the song. There wasn't a word for it. He realized, though, that it was vaguely familiar. Something that, perhaps, he lost long ago. Whatever it was, it felt good. It felt right.

"_Now I feel that this soul… of mine has had its many tolls. Yeaaah…_" Swaying his body with the crowd, the canary flashed a genuine smile through his vocals. "_Still, sometimes the pain… is what we need for us to grow. Yeaaah…_"

Nico hopped off the can and moved back toward the stage's boundaries. "_So when it's time for meee… to look into my deeper side, I will…_" he sang smoothly as a beam of blue light chased after him. Clutching his wings to his chest, he continued with every passion: "_I will find a way… to hold on to the love inside!_"

"_It's time to be…_"

"_Bigger!_" Pedro began to harmonize without warning, grinning as the canary first looked perplexed and then returned his grin. As their voices blended, the whole crowd began to clap their wings in time with the beat.

"_Bigger, bigger…_ _stronger, stronger!_"

"_Bigger, bigger…_"

"_Harder, harder! Yes, I can be…_"

"_Bigger, bigger…_"

Propping his foot up on a half-ripe banana that had somehow found its way onto the stage, Nico decided to take a leaf out of Pedro's book as the lights flared brighter than ever above him. "_See, I can be anything I wanna be_," he spoke rhythmically, tipping his bottle cap at the cardinal (who had enthusiastically kept up his chants of "_bigger, bigger_" as a backdrop). "_All I have to do is put my mind to it… and I can do it!_"

Lifting his voice well above the crowd's clapping, the canary made a sweeping gesture around the plane's interior and said, "_So what I want you to do is put your wings in the sky… and say it with me!_"

Nico's song resumed with more energy than ever. "_I can be…_"

"_Bigger, bigger, stronger, _stronger," every bird in the club seemed to yell out over the canary's singing. Their wings were fully reaching up to the ceiling, as per his request, and they spared no passion in moving along with the words he sang so proudly. "_Harder, harder! Yes, I can be…_"

"_Bigger, bigger… stronger, stronger… harder, harder_," Nico repeated a few times for effect. He was so caught up in the music, nothing else mattered. It felt like the energy of his performance was vibrating in the hollow of his bones. This was surreal. It was utopia. There was nothing that compared to the overwhelming happiness that burned like a fire in his stomach. Oh, what he wouldn't give to hold on to that feeling for a just few minutes longer; a few seconds, even. "_Yes , I can be!_"

The canary's voice echoed out as the music faded and the lights dimmed. "_I can be, I can be…_"

All too soon, it was over.

Nico took a step back, utterly stunned by the thunderous applause and deafening cheers. He was still trying to absorb everything that had just happened when Pedro suddenly ran out on stage and tackled him. The cardinal wrapped his wings around his friend's body so tightly that the canary could feel his feet lifting from the floor.

"That was SO AWESOME," Pedro more or less squealed, grinning hugely.

"T-thanks, but I… can't… breathe…" Nico managed to reply through gasps of laughter.

With a quick word of apology, the cardinal released his friend and promptly nudged him back in the direction of his screaming audience. "Go on, give 'em a bow," he suggested when the only response to his gesture was a confused look. With a wink, he disappeared behind the curtains.

Smiling anxiously, the canary dipped himself into a bow, spreading his wings out at his sides. He waved a final farewell and retreated into the shadows, leaving the stage vacant for the next performers.

Rafael was waiting backstage when Nico finally emerged.

"Way to go, amigo! Muito excelente!" the toucan exclaimed with a bright smile, brushing aside the smaller bird's bottle cap to ruffle his head feathers like a doting parent.

The canary caught the bottle cap, smoothed his crown, and replaced the precious item with an insincere scowl. He then quietly replied, "Thanks, Rafael," and allowed a half-smile to flicker onto his beak while he toed at the ground.

"Well! How'd that feel, 'ey?"

"Like… paradise," Nico decided with a short laugh, unable to think of a better way to put it.

Nodding knowingly at this, Rafael leaned in closer and glanced around shiftily, as though about to utter a terrible secret, and whispered in amusement, "What happened to the bird who couldn't sing?"

"Couldn't tell you," the canary responded, blushing beneath his feathers.

The toucan seemed satisfied with this answer. "Ready to get back out there?" he asked cheerfully, placing a large black wing around his friend's tiny shoulders and gesturing in the direction of the dance floor. "I think you'll have some fans waiting."

Nico hesitated. Was he ready for all that? Shaking his head and gently pushing the older bird's wing aside, he said a bit shyly, "Actually, I think I just need some air."

"Suit yourself, amigo," Rafael said with a kind expression, preparing to walk away. He paused, though, and added one final thought: "You did great, Nico! Any parent would be proud, you know?"

**RIO**

His parents.

When was the last time the canary had thought about them? Much less his siblings—Alba, Zuri, and Marx. The emotions connected to memories of them all were bittersweet. On the one wing, he could claim a certain biological affection toward them; that is, the average and expected "love" that develops between any reasonably functional family unit. On the other wing, though, there wasn't much genuine depth to their bond.

Would they be proud now, he wondered? Had he earned his place in the nest, at last? Nico sighed heavily, juggling these thoughts as he sat on his rump at the edge of the airplane's wing and felt the cold steel penetrate his tender skin. Having snuck out here without being spotted was a bit of a miracle.

The canary closed his eyes. Words tugged at his mind—a song. He opened his beak to release it. "_I wish…_" he started slowly, quietly, "_I wish you were here… to see the things I've done._"

Truth be told, Nico had once been the most promising chick of them all. At least, that's what his parents had said after the fact. He was singing right out of the shell, they had recalled with nostalgic laughter. Small as he was, even by songbird standards, his voice rarely betrayed his size. That passion and raw talent had never left him, no… but his immune system wasn't quite what it should have been. Marx delighted in reminding him that he gave more burdens than bragging rights.

"_I wish you were here,_" the canary continued singing, leaning back on his elbows. "_You'd be so proud of your son…_"

Bittersweet was just an all-around good term for his family matters. It's the way he felt, too, when he thought about the fact that he would never see them again. At least, it was pretty much a long shot. Months and months ago while waiting around in warehouses and pet shops for the humans to trade him in for a stack of paper, he had begun to make peace with being alone. Still, sometimes… sometimes he wondered. You know, those haunting "what if" scenarios?

"_I wish you were here… to celebrate with me,_" Nico breathed out. "_I wish you were here…_"

"Wish granted," Pedro joked from out of the blue. His footsteps tapped their way across the metal until he halted behind his friend and plopped down with a contented sigh. "Now, explain this to me: you got every hotwing in Rio wantin' your attention and you're out here in the cold?"

The canary shrugged his wings, looking embarrassed that his song had been overheard. "What about you?" he countered, hoping to steer the subject away from himself.

"Uh-uh, bird. I see what you're doin' there," the cardinal replied with a suspiciously raised eyebrow. "I asked you first, a'ight?"

Nico laughed a bit. "It's nothing. Wanna head back in?"

Pedro shook his head at this. "Nah, I'm good here." He paused. "Some performance tonight, 'ey?"

"Think so?"

"Que, like you _don't_?"

"Didn't say that," the canary replied quickly, holding his wings up defensively. He found himself under a scrutinizing gaze and shifted uncomfortably; so intense was his best friend's face, that he felt not unlike a virus trapped in a slide under some scientist's microscope. After a while, he mumbled out, "What's with the look?"

"Man, you were on FIRE tonight," the cardinal began, flashing a grin at the memory. Then, he frowned and cocked his head to the side, remarking plainly, "Just tryin' to see where that energy all went."

"Oh."

"That is _exactly_ what I mean, bird! Someone say somethin' to you? 'Cause I _will_—"

"Nothing like that," Nico interrupted hurriedly, not wanting his friend to become riled up over imagined problems. He cleared his throat and glanced away. "Just thinking, that's all."

"That ain't ever good," Pedro said matter of factly; his expression was quite serious, too.

The canary straightened up and absentmindedly started to drag his wingtip around in an endless spiral on the plane's surface. No words found their way to his beak for a long while, but when they did, there was actually just one and it was whispered so lowly that it could barely be heard: "Paradise…"

"Say what?"

Nico's eyes trailed to the horizon, reflecting the yellow glow of the city. "This place. That stage," he said, still mostly whispering. "I felt it tonight."

"You've arrived, man."

"Arrived where?" the canary asked, staring around him in puzzlement.

Pedro shook his head like it was the most obvious thing in Rio. "The next level!" he exclaimed before leaping to his feet and crossing his wings. "Now how 'bout an encore?"

With considerable reluctance, Nico hopped up and trailed after his friend, who was presumptuously headed back inside. "I don't know, Pedro," he called ahead doubtfully, sliding his bottle cap off to fidget with it nervously. Feigning a yawn, he added, "I'm kinda tired."

The cardinal paused and turned back around. "C'mon, you gotta live a little! I'mma teach you how," he declared with a smirk, jabbing a wingtip into his own chest for emphasis. "You sure ain't sleepin' while this bird's awake."

"But, but—"

"You hungry? 'Cause I'm so hungry," Pedro complained out of the blue, perfectly happy to ignore the canary's protests. Tonight, resistance was futile. He whistled for a few moments as he walked along the plane's seemingly endless wing and then stopped so abruptly that Nico almost crashed into him. "You ever think maybe," he began, glancing over his shoulder with a paranoid expression, "Santos might still be, you know, alive somewhere?" Silence. "I mean, that's louco, right?"

"_You're_ louco," the canary answered flatly, not sure whether he was amused or exasperated.

"But I'm serious, bird! You laugh _now_…"

**RIO**

[**Note:** The following scene does not occur in time with the rest of this chapter. The events below are set very shortly after the end of Chapter 11 "Come And Play." Thank you to Strykeruk for pointing out my oversight in mentioning this!]

_It seemed the thousandth time that Adelia, an employee at Plantas Exoticas, had been asked the same question by customers: "What IS that smell?" Honestly, she had assumed it was natural. The plant at the back of the shop was certainly strange enough to justify believing that its smell would be, well, equally strange. She sighed as she walked over to investigate once and for all._

_One glance into the largest pitcher was all it took. There was, indeed, an abnormality within; by no coincidence, this was also the origination of the awful smell._

_Adelia slapped on some yellow rubber gloves and grabbed the pair of long metal tongs that had been set aside for just such a purpose. Scrunching up her nose, she dipped the tongs into the cavernous pitcher of the plant and dug around until she felt something. The moment of truth, she thought._

_The tongs came up, up, up…_

_"Dios mio! Um rato?!" Adelia cried, nearly dropping the creature back into the plant. "Ay, pobrecito…"_

_Santos._

_What was left of his former glory, anyways. He wasn't dead—at least, that's what the violent twitching suggested. The pitcher's digestive juices had hardly left him unscathed, though, and to say that he was uglier than before was a horrid understatement._

_The rat's "good eye" was good no longer; prolonged exposure to acid had left him nearly blind. He was missing considerable amounts of fur which gave him the odd, amusing appearance of a bald-and-gray spotted Dalmatian. Beyond that, his naked pink tail had half-dissolved and left him with only a wiggling stump to remember it by. His ears were raggedy, his toes were badly scarred, and his front teeth had been yanked out in the middle of an escape attempt gone horribly wrong (they remained firmly lodged in the walls of the plant)._

_Despite these visual horrors, Adelia seemed to take pity on the monstrous rodent. She tapped his pink nose as though he were a brand new puppy and joked in her heavy accent, "Curiosity killed the rat, but Adelia brought him back!" With that, she took him into her hand and hurried back to her desk._

_After a while, Santos was plopped into a nest of newspaper at the bottom of an old cardboard box. He lay there unmoving, but not silent—for of all the many things he had lost to the acid of that awful pitcher plant, his tongue was, regrettably, not among the casualties._

_"So hungry," he just about sobbed, rolling over onto his back like some washed up corpse._

_Well, some things never change, do they?_

**Author's Note:** TWIIIIST. Who didn't see that coming? I'm sorry, you can pretend Santos is dead if you'd like, but I had this idea right after "killing" him and I just had to run with it. The image was too hilarious to me, and I feel it's a worst fate than death. Okay, song credits! Nico's "heartsong" up there was Taio Cruz's "I Can Be" (I've had that song planned for this chapter for aaaages) and the shorter song was just an excerpt from Jamie Foxx's "Wish U Were Here" (please note that the lyrics have been taken out of context for the purpose of the scene).

Lastly, but rather importantly, there will only be just ONE more chapter to this story. BUT—much emphasis on the BUT—I've decided to follow up Heartsong with something short (I'm talking two-shot at best), so keep an eye out for that later if you're interested. (P.S. Free hint: Nico's performing one more time next chapter. Less of an inspirational/feel good song and more of the clubby stuff. Also, there's one more tiny twist to come. There are zero clues to what that will be, so you'll just have to be patient.) Thanks for the reading and reviewing!


	14. Make A Move

**Author's Note: **_Behold, the last chapter! That's the bad news. The GOOD news is that this chapter features the biggest, longest performance of all so far, and I'm hoping you'll enjoy it. Song credits way down below. Before this starts, I'll take a moment to personally thank all those who have reviewed up to this point for the last time: EmmerzK, ILOVENICO1000X, Strykeruk, Niah09, Angel015, and IBrokeThe4thWall. You're all awesome. ;)_

They had been practicing their duet for weeks. It wouldn't be the first time they performed together at The Next Level, but according to Pedro, their latest creation was fated to be their best yet—IF they could pull it off. Nico was pretty confident they would; actually, he was just more confident overall. Things had settled down around him: his wing had healed completely, there were only faded scars (obscured by feathers) to remind anyone of Santos, and life was treating him pretty well.

Yeah, life in Rio was one big party. Frankly, for such a small bird, his reputation in the city was impressively large. The canary wouldn't admit it, but that fact was a newfound source of pride. For the first time in a good long while, he couldn't help thinking everything would turn out alright—but maybe that was just the cardinal's optimism rubbing off on him. He didn't much care either way.

Introspective thought had its time and place, but it wasn't now.

"_W-W-We're the party shakers!_" Pedro called out as the lights began to flash wildly, inciting nothing short of a riot on the dance floor. He flashed a massive grin and nodded in Nico's direction.

"_Wake up, wake up,_" the canary began to sing, hopping onto a stack of sardine cans. "_People get it on…_"

"_Gonna rock your booody!_" the cardinal jumped in passionately, winking in the direction of a few hotwings. He began to move his torso in mock-seductive circles while mouthing to them that he would meet them afterwards, much to their delight and amusement.

Nico smiled and gestured with his wing at any birds still perched shyly on the sidelines to join the dancing below as he sang, "_Stand up, stand up…_"

"_Stand up, yeah!_" Pedro echoed, mimicking his friend's gesture, and then added, "_We're moving all the way to the top!_"

"_We're flying high, so high… to the sky!_" The canary launched himself into the air and spun around a couple times above the stage. He dove back down and swept above the feathery heads of the crowd, returning wing-slaps along the way.

The cardinal, meanwhile, hopped off the stage altogether. "_And we land on the dance floor!_"

"_Right, tonight…_" Nico had landed back on the sardine cans. "_We will—_"

"—_Blow this club awaaay_," the two birds joined voices to sing, dragging out the final word and then pausing altogether. They laughed as the lights began to dim and the crowd murmured in confusion and disappointment. In the few seconds of darkness, they assumed position back to back and waited for their cue.

Intense yellow lights flared to life and several birds hollered their approval above all the rest; the music, which had quieted to a dull drum beat, suddenly became louder than ever.

"_From Rio to Jamaica, we are the party shakers!_" Pedro and Nico sang in unison, spinning away from each other and starting up a spontaneous dance that took them all over the stage until they met back in the middle, all the while continuing their song: "_So welcome everybody… let's party tonight!_"

"_We'll sing until its daylight! They call us troublemakers… but we just like to party, and party tonight!_"

Every bird in the club was dancing to form a blur of color that was literally rocking the plane's shell. They sang along as the chorus was repeated once more—though a few "lightweights" were already so drunk on nectar that their classification as "songbirds" became questionable the very second they opened their beaks to join the spontaneous sing-along.

The canary whipped off his bottle cap and began to tap out a rhythm, swaying to his own beat. "_Oh eh oh, oh eh oh…_"

"_W-W-We're the party shakers!_" the cardinal hollered, pumping his wing in the air.

"_Oh eh oh, oh eh oh…_"

Pedro slid to the edge of the stage on his knees and sang, "_We just like to party, and party tonight!_"

"_That's right!_" Nico had thrown in with a smile. Blue lights now rained down over the performance, swirling like water reflections in a shadowy sea. He flipped his bottle cap back onto his head and held his wings out as if to quiet the crowd, singing, "_Alright, alright! Love is in the air…_"

"_All of the birds get foxy!_" the cardinal added, reaching his wing out to a pretty parakeet near the stage before retracting it and offering a flirtatious wink instead.

The canary smirked, stepping closer to nudge his friend. "_Tonight's the night!_"

"_We're blinded by the disco lights!_" Pedro sang, moving back from the crowd and cupping his wings in preparation for some impromptu choreography. He gave a discreet nod, his eyes sparkling.

Nico hopped into position and was promptly thrown upwards toward the lights. "_We're flying high, so high… to the sky!_" he was singing, chuckling a bit inside himself as the audience went wild with approval.

"_Make it over the rainbow!_" The cardinal arched his wings over his head, and the club was briefly awash in multi-colored strobes.

"_Right, tonight…_"

The two birds' voices melted together once more: "_We will blow this club away!_"

"_From Rio to Jamaica, we are the party shakers!_" Nico had rejoined Pedro on the stage floor. Together, they danced and spun until they were dizzy and the audience was cheering over their vocals: "_So welcome everybody… let's party tonight!_"

"_We'll sing until it's daylight! They call us troublemakers… but we just like to party, and party tonight!_"

The cardinal threw his wings in the air, yelling out, "We're the party shakers!"

"_Oh eh oh, oh eh oh_," the canary began to sing, tapping his bottle cap again while bobbing his head to the music. "_Oh eh oh, oh eh oh…_"

Pedro overlapped this with his own tune: "_Oh oh, whoa whoaaa!_"

"_We just like to party, and party tonight!_" Nico started up again with a smile, rolling his bottle cap over the top of his left wing, throwing it off the tip, and sidestepping to catch it effortlessly on his head.

"_Hey, hey, hey_," the cardinal was chanting; the audience joined him. "_Hey, hey, hey!_"

Just then, out of the blue, every light in the club flickered off and dumped the plane's interior into complete darkness. There was only patient silence in response—this had actually become a regular occurrence resulting from shared electricity. It was the one downside of an otherwise fantastic location, so no one complained too much over the odd short out. There were other means of resolving interruptions.

"BAM!" Pedro burst out as a burning red glow broke through the darkness. All around the stage, a series of emergency flares came to life as though this had been planned all along. With a squawk, the cardinal's rap solo began: "_Come on down, we gonna make a party! Sip your drink, you're feeling alriiight!_" He grooved around, the intense lighting adding nothing but effect. "_Everybody do a dance and get up on it, so it's like whoa, whoa, whoaaaa!_"

"TE AMO, PEDRO!" Several young birds had pushed to the front of the audience, jumping around excitedly and attempting to touch their idol's foot when he drew near to them.

"_And I know you're gonna want more! Take you all around the world, go on tour_," Pedro continued rapping, keeping teasingly out of reach from his screaming groupies. He whirled around, leapt onto a glass jar, spread his wings wide, and hollered out, "_Everybody get your tail down on the floor!_"

The grand finale.

Lights rolled back on in every corner of the club, drowning out the effect of the flares, and Nico stepped back to the forefront as the joint chorus began: "_From Rio to Jamaica, we are the party shakers!_" He flashed a smile as the cardinal gave him a friendly shoulder bump. "_So welcome everybody… let's party tonight!_"

"_We'll sing until it's daylight! They call us troublemakers…_" Pedro shrugged at this line, his expression one of mock bewilderment. Laughter and cheers swept through the dance floor as the two birds continued. "_But we just like to party, and party tonight!_"

The canary moved back again, singing, "_Oh eh oh, oh eh oh…_"

"_All of my people... from Rio to Jamaica!_" the cardinal spoke out loudly, still moving to the beat and backed by the continuous tune of "oh eh oh." He jabbed his wing out at the crowd and declared at the top of his lungs, "_We're gonna rock the dance hall! Spread love all over the wooorld!_"

With that, their performance was concluded and the two birds dipped into a low bow that was met by whoops, hollers, whistles, screams and anything else in-between. Ah, the satisfying sound of success. They slapped their wings together in a self-congratulatory gesture, then disappeared from view as the spotlights were switched off to prepare for the next act.

**RIO**

Rafael was among the first to congratulate them when they returned to the dance floor. He had to shout his compliments over the crowd, though, as many a bird was eager to get a word in themselves. That was fame for you, and yet it was fleeting: another performer had appeared on the stage and she was no stranger to the club's affections.

"Oi, ain't that Kali up there? Been a while since she sung," Pedro commented as he glanced up at the performer, who was currently doing her vocal exercises while the band set up.

The toucan nodded at this. "Rumor has it she went back home a while."

"That right? 'Course _you'd _know," the cardinal laughed in reply, shaking his head. To Nico, he added informatively, "Kali sings for this one band, 'Lovenest.' They're pretty sweet." It quickly became apparent that the canary wasn't actually listening to any of this; his eyes were locked on a certain performer, and he paid little mind to the devious smile that worked its way onto his best friend's beak.

Kali was a canary, but she was no mirror image of Nico. She boasted orange-red feathers and a shaggy crest that fell over her eyes at times; her legs and beak were perfectly pink, and her eyes were a simple shade of amber. Nothing too exotic in a jungle full of birds whose appearances frequently stretched the realm of possibility. Still, without even meaning to, she had cast some kind of spell.

"She's a hotwing, 'ey?" Pedro said with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at his friend, who had snapped out of his trance and now looked entirely flustered. "And don't even_ try_ denying it, bird."

"S-She's pretty, I guess," Nico conceded after some hesitation, averting his gaze.

Rafael chuckled and patted the smaller bird's head. "Ah, young love," he mused with a happy sigh, beginning to hum the tune of an old familiar song. Some of the words slipped out in a whisper: "_Tall and tan and young and lovely!_"

Kali had already begun singing, herself. _"—still wanna get you alone. Will you be around? Be around, be around…_"

"Wow," the canary breathed out, impressed enough by the ongoing performance to temporarily forget his friends' presence. He toed at the ground, trying not to stare. "She's, um… really good, actually."

"_Can I take all the steps I'm planning tonight… without risking it all?_"

"Uh-huh. And that's why I'mma hook you up after the show, a'ight?" The cardinal said all this very casually. He was tapping his foot to the beat and nodding his approval at the light show. When he was fixed with a horrified stare—quite an exaggerated reaction, but not unexpected—he worked to supress the smirk that tickled the corners of his beak.

"B-but she's— I'm—"

"_You do your body work! I feel my pulse working overtime…_"

Pedro's wing shot up into a "hush" gesture. Rolling his eyes, he said, "Man, I don't get you. You been working the hotwings like a pro lately! Learned from the best and all." He grinned at this and then looked serious again. "Anyway, not the point. What have you gotta lose with her, 'ey?"

Nico shook his head, signifying that he had no words. He frowned a bit, but the expression faded as Kali's vibrant feathers caught his eye again and his attention snapped back to her in a flash.

"_I get shy in these lights… I feel your body doing overtime!_" Kali's stage presence was fairly renowned, and she had the club rocking along with her. "_I get shy in these lights… I feel my pulse doing overtime!_"

"Ay caramba, our boy's got it bad," Rafael remarked quietly, clicking his tongue.

"No kiddin', Rafy," the cardinal grunted, running a wing through his head feathers with exasperation. He took a deep breath and nodded decisively, adding passionately, though not too loudly, "A'ight! Just leave it to Pedro. I'll handle this."

The toucan looked unreservedly skeptical. "That a good idea, amigo? C'mon, let nature run its course!"

"Ugh, but that'll take _forever_."

"_I won't give you what 's right, you still come around. I won't put up a fight, you still come around. Come around, come around…_"

"You guys say something?" Nico inquired out of the blue, glancing back at his friends. His face contorted with confusion when he noticed their stiff smiles and nervous eyes. "Uh, guys?"

"Nah, man, you're hearing things," Pedro declared with an awkward laugh, eyes shifting. "Ain't that right, Rafy?"

"Too right, my friend," Rafael nodded cheerfully, but when the canary turned from them in satisfaction, he breathed a sigh of relief. Shooting a glower in the cardinal's direction, he whispered harshly, "Now drop it. Comprende?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"_Can I make all the moves I'm making tonight without hurting you bad? I get shy…_"

**RIO**

Kali's grand finale was at its end. "_I get shy in these lights… I feel my pulse doing overtime!_" she sang out, letting her voice echo as the music ceased and darkness splashed across the club. Cheers erupted all across the dance floor, but when the shadows lifted from the stage, there was no canary to be seen—though the black curtains were still flapping in her wake.

_That's that_, Nico had figured a bit regretfully. He stared into the thimble of nectar he clutched in his wings (some bird or another had insisted he take it), swishing the thick liquid around and watching the strobe lights above reflect on the surface. _Pretty_, he thought absentmindedly.

"Well, if it isn't the party shakers! Mind if I join you?"

Pedro's eyes lit up. "Kali! Tudo bem, girl? You were ownin' that stage," he said with a large grin, exchanging a quick side-hug with the female canary.

"Thanks, man! You know how I do," Kali joked in response, elbowing the larger bird. She offered a smile at the other two birds, saying first, "Long time, no see, Rafy! Where you been?"

"Very funny, chica. I should be asking you," Rafael winked at her, his expression warm.

"Fair enough! So tell me, boys… who's this friend of yours? He's kinda cute."

Nico, of course, had been meant to hear the compliment. There was no hope of suave introductions, though; his voice was struggling to even leave his throat. "I-I'm… Nnh… nnh-comb… neeee—"

The toucan chuckled. "_This_ is Nico."

"Nico, huh?" Kali repeated thoughtfully, flashing a grin as vibrant as her feathers. "Solid name. I like it."

"She _likes_ you, bird! Make your move already!" the cardinal was hissing not so discreetly into his best friend's ear, trying to snap him out of his lovestruck daze. He straightened up and whistled innocently when he noticed the female canary looking their way, but still managed to sneak in a good, hard kick.

"Ow! What was that for?" Nico asked with a frown, hopping on one foot to relieve his knee.

Pedro said nothing. With a thrust of his wing, he shoved the smaller bird forward before he could so much as put both feet on the ground, causing him to tumble forward like a domino—straight into the chest of a certain other small bird. _Smooth, _the cardinal thought happily, until he remembered the thimble of nectar that his friend had been clutching. _Uh-oh…_

Kali raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Whoa! You alright there, cutie?"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Nico exclaimed in genuine horror, seeing the thick red nectar running through the female canary's feathers. Instinctively, he began wiping at her front with both wings, still apologizing. Something clicked, though, and he jumped back a few inches. "Oh, I—I didn't mean to—"

Friendly laughter interrupted. "No worries, alright? It's totally cool." Kali was smiling, evidently not the least bit concerned by the mess. She turned to Rafael and winked. "Keep this one around. I like him."

With that, the female canary was off into the thick of the dance floor, waving a wing as she departed.

The cardinal had both wings pressed over his beak, trying to keep his laughter muffled; snorts of amusement were still escaping here and there. Internally, he was in hysterics, and it was taking every ounce of self-control to keep that from bubbling over.

"W-what… just happened?"

Rafael stroked his beak's underside pensively, as though seriously pondering this question, and then announced plainly, "Well, amigo, I think she likes you."

Nico stared at him in disbelief. "Did you SEE_—_"

"Ay, I did. Did you?" the toucan countered prematurely, his eyes glimmering.

Only just having composed himself, Pedro hopped forward and placed a wing on his best friend's shoulder. "Pobre passaro! _Still_ so much to learn," he lamented with great exaggeration, hanging his head in remorse. Then, perking up suddenly, he said, "A'ight, let me give it to you straight! You're a good egg, man, but you're _cracked_ if you ain't gonna chase that tail. You get me?"

"Uh…"

"That just ain't the spirit, man," the cardinal sighed, rubbing his forehead with one wingtip.

With a sheepish smile, Nico glanced away, working to gather his own daring. This hadn't been so much of an issue for him lately, hotwings or no, but something was different with Kali and he wasn't sure how to handle it just yet. "Okay," he said finally, straightening his bottle cap like this had some direct effect on his courage, "I'll give it a shot."

Pedro's bright demeanor was quickly restored. "Yessss! _That's _the bird I know," he said excitedly. "Now remember what I told you: Brazilian ladies respond to _confidence_."

"Confidence. Right," the canary replied affirmatively.

Rafael watched as the small yellow bird whom, what seemed ages ago now, he had found quivering on the jungle floor on a rainy day took to the air. He watched as he glided over the bopping sea of feathery heads, circled around a few times, and then dove into the mass of bodies. The toucan couldn't help the sense of pride he felt rising in his chest; it was such a short while, but his friend—his _son_, it felt at times—had grown so much. Well, not literally (he chuckled at this thought), but figuratively speaking.

"There he goes! That's my boy…"

Silence.

"You're full of tree sap, Rafy. He's comin' right back, y'know!"

**Author's Note:** _VOILA! The end! You know, I should mention that I have NEVER finished writing a multi-chapter story in my entire life. Not even close. It's a bit surreal to finally say I have. Closing remarks? Like I mentioned before, stay tuned for a short "follow up" story, but no sequel. Also, FYI, Kali's not an "OC" in the typical sense—she's just a background character that I made up on the spot like all the rest. She may receive brief mention later on, but that's about it. I'm afraid I don't do love stories, as romance bores me to death. Still, I thought some of you might appreciate Kali as a tool to jog the imagination far as what happens to Nico after all this._

_Alright, music stuff! First, "Party Shakers" (Laselva Beach Radio Edit) by R.I.O. featuring Nicco. No, really. I laughed, and then I realized it was a good match for my vision. Please note, however, that I tweaked a couple of the "trashier" lyrics and improvised a word or two that were simply unclear. Second song, an excerpt of "Body Work" by Morgan Page featuring Tegan and Sara on vocals. Well, I guess that's it then! Thanks for all the reviews (and favorites). It's been fun, and I'll see you guys around, 'ey? ;)_


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